Sweet Dreams
by R. Herring
Summary: Weeks of penile third-shift monitor duty have left Skywarp recharge deprived and with limited control over his warping abilities. Millennia of war, loss and repressed love come to a head as, every time he attempts to recharge, he ends up warping where he wishes to be most: Thundercracker's side.
1. The Trouble with Teleportation

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the associated characters.

**Sweet Dreams**

**Chapter 1: The Trouble with Teleportation**

With a contented blast of air from his vents, Skywarp arched his back struts and stretched his wings before rising from the console he'd been sitting at for slagging megacycles. Three Earth weeks of third-shift monitor duty has taken their toll on the ebony seeker.

Perhaps he should not have targeted Megatron and Starscream in his latest puerile Valentine's Day prank. Ah, the squishies had such fun holidays to torment his superior officers with.

He gave a tired grin as he remembered his leader's ire upon discovering he erased all of Starscream's reports and replaced them with short, saccharine messages to Megatron from his SIC inspired by squishy conversation hearts. His grin widened as he remembered the look on Megatron's face upon reading "I want 2B UR polishing cloth – SS."

Yes, he decided, it was most definitely worth a month of recharge deprivation.

He could really go for some energon, followed by a nice, long recharge cycle.

No sooner had the thought formed in his processor than Skywarp found himself in the rec room by the energon dispenser.

Clearly recharge deprivation was affecting his control over his warping abilities.

Luckily for the teleporter, the Autobots had been unusually quiet lately. He didn't relish the idea of explaining to an incensed Starscream why he suddenly warped out of formation during a critical maneuver.

He quickly knocked back a cube, eager to return to his quarters and his berth -- and suddenly there it was, right in front of him. With a resigned blast of air from his vents he flopped down onto the welcoming surface. Although Skywarp enjoyed being the harbinger of chaos, he disliked the feeling of having a lack of control over himself and his special abilities. Though these thoughts were troubling, his exhaustion won over and recharge quickly claimed him.

He dreamt of TC.

The blue seeker visited him in his dreams with increasing frequency as the vorns went on.

His trinemate and best friend seemed oblivious to Skywarp's growing affection, which the ebony seeker carefully hid. Though Thundercracker had his doubts about the Decepticon cause, in the end he was a proper 'Con, and as such did not entertain such squishy romantic feelings. Those emotions were better left to those slag-sucking Autobots.

Skywarp often felt a bit ashamed over his attraction to his friend. His feelings just didn't mesh with his self-identity as a ruthless Decepticon warrior, a seeker elite. But like it or not, he could not get his beautiful trinemate out of his head, or his dreams.

Skywarp's systems hummed contentedly in his sleep as dream TC flew next to him in formation, wingtips a hairs breadth apart.

Energy arched between their sleek forms, flowing from fuselage to wingtip, bridging the minute gap between them. Starscream flew ahead, seemingly unaware as Thundercracker sent a surge of energy over to his other trinemate, the forked lightning traveled over the flat plane of Skywarp's left wings and continued onward to caress his fuselage.

Skywarp let out a keen as the energy stroked the sensitive surfaces of his wings and surrounded his frame in a fiery embrace. He sent a return pulse, watching as the blue seeker rumbled his satisfaction, his powerful turbines causing air disturbances that tickled and teased Skywarp's wings.

With a low rumble that sent chills down his trinemate's back struts, Thundercracker dropped back and rolled, increasing his speed so that within a few moments he was directly underneath Skywarp.

The current between the undersides of their fuselages intensified, forked tendrils of energy reaching out to stroke their wings.

Skywarp's core felt molten, the combined sensation of the wind buffering his frame and his wingmate's attentions becoming too much.

"TEEECEEEE," He cried out as he felt overload washing over him.

And then he fell out of the sky, hitting the ground with a painful impact.

Wait, no, this wasn't dirt and rock he was laying on. It was metal!

Skywarp lurched into full consciousness to find himself on the floor of the Nemesis in what were clearly private quarters.

As he stared across the floor at the noticeable lack of clutter, he slowly realized that these quarters were _far _too tidy to be his own. It was then he heard a noise above him.

He looked up, dread clenching hold of his spark as he came face-to-face with a very shocked and confused Thundercracker.


	2. Alone

Author's Notes: Hello all, R. Herring here. Just leaving a quick note to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews. Also, there will be no update next week, as I have some not-so-fun writing I need to do (term papers, yuck).

Special thanks goes to my wonderful beta, Kapu37, for her helpful suggestions.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Alone**

As Thundercracker continued to stare down at him, Skywarp felt as though his insides were being eaten away by cosmic rust.

"H-hey TC," he stuttered, fuel pump hammering in his chest compartment as he wracked his processor for a believable excuse as to why he ended up on his trinemate's floor. "I was just uh, getting away from, um… Motormaster. Yeah, Motormaster! He's still out for my energon after that last prank I pulled." Skywarp quickly checked his internal chronometer. Good, it was late enough in the morning to where it would be reasonable for him to have crossed paths with the murderous semi truck. He gave Thundercracker his most charming grin as he waited to see whether or not the other flyer would buy his explanation.

The blue seeker gave him an odd look, opened his mouth as if to say something, but then changed his mind, closing it again. It was then that Skywarp noticed that Thundercracker's optics, though piercing him with a questioning gaze, were looking a little dim. Had he been in recharge? Ah, so that must be the reason for his strange, hesitant manner. Skywarp relaxed minutely. After all, it wasn't all that unusual for him to warp into his friend's quarters to escape the wrath of his latest victim. So what if he miscalculated his jump and ended up on the floor? It happened. As long as Thundercracker did not find out the true reason for his warp, he should be able to escape this confrontation with his secret still intact.

"Sure Warp," Thundercracker finally said, seeming to snap out of his stupor, "but why were you in my berth?"

Skywarp's energon lines ran cold.

"I-In your berth?" he queried shakily, praying to Primus that he had heard the blue flyer incorrectly.

"Yeah. In my berth." Thundercracker was standing right next to his recharge berth, still connected to his recharge computer. "And why in the pit did you feel the need to wake me by yelling? It's not often I get first shift off." The blue seeker's face rearranged itself into a grumpy pout. Though Thundercracker was by far the most levelheaded of the seekers, he had a long-standing reputation for being quite irritable when his recharge was disturbed.

"Uh, sorry TC, I must have gotten the coordinates slightly off. Heh." Skywarp tried giving Thundercracker another carefree smile, hoping that the other flier would brush this one off in favor of kicking him out and going back to recharge. "I didn't mean to yell either, Motormaster and the rest of those processor glitched Stunticons were just about to jump me when I warped." Skywarp thanked Primus that Thundercracker had been too out of it to register what exactly he had yelled.

"Fine, just don't let it happen again," the blue flyer said tiredly. "By the way, what are you even doing awake? Screamer assigned you to third shift. Shouldn't you be recharging? You clearly need it and if you are late to drills _again_ he will go ballistic. He's been exceptionally touchy this week thanks to that Aerialbot fiasco."

"Recharging. Right. I'll get right on that." Seeing his exit, the ebony seeker warped out of the room before any more questions could be asked, leaving his bleary opticed, confused wingmate behind.

Once back in the safety of his own quarters, Skywarp let out a relieved laugh. That had just been too close. The flyer looked longingly at his berth, wings drooping with fatigue, but he did not dare attempt to recharge. If he started to dream, he could warp again. He was able to talk his way out of the resulting awkward situation once. Even though he was not particularly intelligent, the Decepticon prankster prided himself on being a master of alibis. Even so, he seriously doubted that he would be so fortunate if he were to end up in Thundercracker's berth a second time in one day. Creating a cover-up was always risky when Thundercracker was involved. That mech treated errant thoughts like annoying itches on one's wings. He simply could not leave an idea alone, brooding over it constantly from every possible angle. Normally, it would only be a matter of time until Thundercracker found the holes in his alibi. Skywarp still could not believe his luck that his wingmate was too exhausted to pursue the situation in his normal, intensely inquisitive manner and simply accepted his friend's explanation.

Seeing as he was not going to get any recharge, he decided he might as well use the few megacycles until drills constructively. The cassette twins had been getting on his nerves lately, perhaps it was a good time to engage in one of his favorite pastimes: cassetticon-ball. With a malicious smirk, he warped out in search of his unsuspecting targets. In what seemed like no time at all, the sky two miles above was bright, Rumble and Frenzy were in the repair bay, and he had about half a megacycle until he had combat maneuver practice with Starscream and Thundercracker. Wearily, he made his way to the surface lift, he'd get his audios whined off by his irritable trineleader if he was late again.

* * *

The sky above the expanse of ocean concealing the Nemesis was a deep cerulean blue. It was a cloudless day. Looking towards the horizon, Skywarp found it almost impossible to tell where the ocean ended and the sky began. He kicked in his afterburners, laughing as he raced the wind towards that invisible line. The absence of tons of water crushing down on his spark, separating him from his precious sky, lifted his mood as effectively as the air currents bearing him aloft. Feeling revitalized, the ebony seeker streaked low over the seemingly endless ocean.

All too soon, his euphoria was interrupted by the appearance of his trinemates in the corner of his radar. He dropped his left wing, and rotated ninety degrees to the south to meet them. With a greeting brush of wings, he settled into his customary place on Thundercracker's right side.

"So nice of you to join us, Skywarp." Starscream said in that falsely saccharine voice of his which always heralded trouble for the unfortunate mech on the receiving end. Skywarp checked his chronometer. Scrap, he was late again. "Luckily for you, we have more pressing issues to deal with today." Oh, no. The all-to-familiar change in tone of Starscream's voice told him it was coming, the bane of Skywarp's short attention span, the dreaded monologue.

"Our glorious leader has already expressed his displeasure regarding our lackluster performance in the last battle," a subtle shiver passed down Starscream's frame. "The incompetence of Silverbolt when it comes to combat strategy has had the unfortunate side effect of making the Aerialbots highly unpredictable. Usually, this results in those miserable excuses for flyers jetting around like turbochickens with their heads chopped off, but as we now have been reminded, even imbeciles can get lucky." Skywarp winced at this. He had carelessly allowed himself to be shot in the thruster by Skydive, causing him to veer right into Thundercracker while just barely catching Starscream by his vertical stabilizer, effectively taking all three seekers out of the fight.

Starscream narrowed his optics, delicate features twisting into an almost comical expression of pique. Skywarp opened his private com channel with Thundercracker.

"Looks like our resident lovebirds had a little tiff." Thundercracker gave him a discreet sidelong glance as Starscream continued to voice his distaste for "those pit-spawned, glitch-headed, woefully inept Aerialbots," completely oblivious to the private conversation occurring over his head.

"Skywarp, although I am aware of your theories on the matter, I highly doubt those two have done anything except pound a few new dents into each other." Skywarp threw Thundercracker a lecherous grin. "Oh, get your processor out of the gutter, Warp. You know that is not what I meant."

"...So in order to better defend against the Aerialbots, we will need to modify our attacks to appear less structured. The last thing we want is to present ourselves as a larger, united target for them to shoot blindly at."

"Ever notice how Screamer still twitches anytime someone mentions Nightbird?"

"Well, sure, but this is Starscream we were talking about. The only emotional blow Screamer was dealt by that incident was to his ego. Which is quite an easy target to hit, considering it's _size,_" Thundercracker allowed himself a little smirk at their trineleader's expense. "The Nightbird incident was only one occurrence in a long line of circumstances under which Starscream has thrown a hissy fit over his hurt pride. You are simply trying to see something that just_ isn't _there."

"…For this reason, we will be working on attacks outside of trine formation, especially strafing runs, as our ground support was lacking in the last battle. As I have told Megatron, we have our servos full with those winged morons, but apparently our ground forces are too incompetent to manage things on their own," Starscream fluttered his wings in irritation. "Echelon formation, now."

Thundercracker immediately flew over to flank Starscream's right, but Skywarp remained where he was, blocking the blue seeker's flight path.

"SKYWARP, have you been listening to a thing I've said?!" Starscream suddenly shrieked, causing the ebony flyer to jump and yet again surprising his two unfortunate trinemates with the octaves he could reach, " Echelon formation, NOW!"

It was going to be a long megacycle.

* * *

Much later that orbital cycle, Skywarp headed down to the rec room to collect his energon ration before heading off to monitor duty. Second shift had not gotten off duty yet, so the room was empty, save for one mech. There, sitting at a table in the corner, seemingly lost in thought, was Thundercracker.

"Slag, he's thinking!" Skywarp panicked, before realizing himself just how ridiculous his thought was. Of course he was thinking, that was simply his elder trinemate's way. He had probably already forgotten the berth incident in favor of brooding over his topic of choice, the Decepticon cause. Skywarp snagged a cube before heading over to the aloof seeker.

"Credit for your thoughts?" Skywarp slid into the seat next to his friend, trying not to notice how cute Thundercracker looked as he bit his bottom lip, thoroughly engrossed in whatever thoughts were flitting through his processor.

The blue seeker snapped out of his reverie, optics focusing upon Skywarp's face.

"Oh, hey Warp. It's nothing important really," he evaded. Skywarp rolled his optics. If Thundercracker still believed that his best friend was oblivious to his misgivings regarding the cause, he needed his processor checked. Skywarp did not understand his trinemate's hesitation when it came to discussing his doubts. Sure, he was loyal to Megatron, but he would never even dream of turning Thundercracker over as a traitor. Though he would never admit it aloud, if the time ever came when he did have to make a choice, his loyalty to Thundercracker would come first. Surely the elder seeker knew this?

"Do you ever think how we may die in this war, alone?" Thundercracker asked unexpectedly.

Whatever thought Skywarp had been expecting Thundercracker to finally give in and verbalize, this was _not _it. Questions regarding Megatron's tyrannical leadership style or the unnecessary killing of innocent humans he could handle, was what he was expecting. Where had this thought come from? Skywarp took a moment to get over his surprise and collect his thoughts.

"Thundercracker, stop worrying. You and I have survived _vorns_ of this war. We aren't exactly easy to offline. Anyways, if we are terminated, I'll keep you company in the pit," Skywarp finished with a playful smirk, which quickly deflated upon seeing his wingmate's troubled expression. "Oh, come on TC, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Skywarp, this is a war, in case you've forgotten. Either of us could be offlined tomorrow. Sometimes skill isn't enough, like in the battle last week. So what if it was a lucky shot. What if Silverbolt had hit somewhere more critical, like your spark chamber? Lucky shot or not, you'd still be offline," Thundercracker finished, looking quite distressed.

Skywarp had nothing to say to that. For a few rare moments, silence reigned.

"Well, you are right. We can't control fate, but sitting around moping isn't exactly the best way to spend the time we do have to enjoy life, my little black rain cloud," Skywarp teased.

"Your what?" Thundercracker asked, looking puzzled.

"Never mind, squishy expression," Skywarp hurriedly replied, vaguely embarrassed that he had caught himself using a term of endearment, even if Thundercracker had not understood. "Point is, cheer up TC... Slag, I start my shift in a breem. Gotta jet, I'll see you at morning rations."

Skywarp started to head towards the control room, but right before he passed over the threshold he half turned and said, so quietly that Thundercracker doubted he had heard it at all, "And by the way, you are not alone."


	3. Beginnings: Part I

Author's Notes: I am sorry for the long hiatus, RL is being a bit of a pain at the moment... but I will finish, slowly but surely. I Promise ;-)

Anyway, this chapter was originally 6,000 words long and contained a crazy amount of time shifts. To keep things more clear, I have decided to break it up into two parts. I didn't really wish to do this, as the chapter works better as a whole. On the bright side, you get a chapter sooner (I am still working with Part II). Youngling Skywarp is meant to come off as a bit of an impressionable, hero-worshipping youngling here. I hope I wrote him in a believable manner. I promise you will see more canon Skywarp-like personality in Part II as he becomes less overwhelmed by the new changes in his life and undergoes his inevitable metamorphosis into the crueler, warlike Skywarp we see in G1. Constructive criticism is welcomed, as I want to make sure I have my characterization okay.

As always, thank you to my beta, Kapu37.

**Chapter 3 – Beginnings (Part I)**

Exactly three megacycles, four breems and 1.36 astroseconds into his shift – No, he was not counting – Skywarp sat at the large security console, bored as slag.

Over the course of his shift, the listless seeker had gradually slid down in his chair until he was nearly horizontal; The only thing keeping him from sinking onto the floor were his wings, which were catching on the arms of the chair in a most uncomfortable manner. Seriously, how many flyers where there in the Decepticon army? You would think that Megatron could spare a few credits for some armless chairs, but noooo. The ebony seeker grumbled in irritation.

Skywarp gave the wall of monitors a perfunctory glance. No Autobots. What a surprise; they _never_ attacked at night.

Prime and his mechs had largely adopted the circadian rhythms of their host planet. Their apparent need for regular recharge cycles, Skywarp assumed, was due to their nostalgic refusal to relinquish the last enduring vestiges of their former civilian lives. A foolish sentimentality that was often exploited by his own faction. Most of the reconnaissance missions carried out by his trine since coming to Earth had been at night, when only a few Autobots were active to guard the immediate perimeter of the Ark. Flying at high altitudes, they likely eluded detection even by Teletraan-1.

Presently, the majority of the opposing faction was probably nestled away in their berths, dreaming sweet little Autobot dreams. The seeker gave a contemptuous snort.

Former merchants, diplomats, scientists, fragging _towerlings_ – they had no place in war.

He had been sparked a military model, and as such, had never felt the need to indulge in such frivolous practices as recharging on a regular schedule. All Skywarp needed was a steady supply of energy, a place to recharge when necessary, something to shoot at, and perhaps an occasional high-grade reward.

Granted, military life could get a little dull at times, but he never let that get his wings in a pinch. Pranks were a great way to break up the monotony. Besides, the life of a solider was the only existence Skywarp had ever known, since he was barely a youngling.

On Cybertron, during his brief time as a member of the Cybertronian Aerospace Defense Force, his day began at 0530, when he reported for PT and maneuver practice, and ended with evening mess at 1925.

Since he joined the Decepticons, the specifics of said routine had changed, as had the banner under which he fought. Regardless, his underlying motive for embracing the life of a soldier remained the same.

Skywarp reveled in destruction and slaughter. A sadist at spark, he was only happy with the cacophony of battle ringing in his audios and the stain of another mech's energon on his servos.

The cause for which he fought meant little to him, as long as he got trigger time, and that Thundercracker was there.

Skywarp shook his helm, trying to clear his processor after his abrupt shift in thought; the image of rapidly dimming azure optics over the barrel of his arm cannon supplanted by a vivid carmine gaze.

Skywarp surrendered to the quiet presence of his wingmate, bloodlust momentarily forgotten as long repressed memory files were recalled of a time he was not so truculent.

* * *

The first time he ever laid optics on the mech who would later become his trinemate was at his first inspection review. Starscream, newly appointed as Second in Command, was inspecting the new fliers with his wingmates, Thundercracker and Slipstream, in tow.

He did not remember much of the blue seeker from that first encounter. Starscream tended to have that effect on new recruits.

If one was not immediately awed by the flying legend, he soon captivated their attention regardless with his striking looks and grandiose, authoritarian demeanor. For most, Skywarp included, his sheer presence was enough. They had all heard stories about the young Air Commander; the brilliant red seeker with razor sharp wings, who swooped down upon unsuspecting Autobot groundlings like deactivation incarnate.

Slipstream, while lacking his trineleader's finesse, could certainly match his arrogance. Fanning his persimmon wings, the obnoxious seeker would strut about, barking orders to the new recruits until Starscream, in no gentle terms, reminded him just who was in charge.

Thundercracker, with his blue coloring and withdrawn, quiet manner, faded into the background; His flamboyant wingmates, colored in loud shades of red, blue and orange, were all Skywarp could see in those early days.

* * *

A few vorns later, Slipstream was deactivated in combat.

It was on that day that Skywarp received orders to report to Air Commander Starscream at the Kaon base. Kaon, the headquarters for the Decepticon Air Force, was a good two hours flight from his outpost on the outskirts of Vos. He spent his entire flight wondering what could possibly be so important as to drag him a quarter of the way across Cyberton when a simple com transmission would suffice.

He was not disappointed.

"As you undoubtedly know, Slipstream was terminated earlier this orn," Starscream began without preamble, grief for his lost wingmate conspicuously absent. "Somehow I am not surprised. That bungling moron had his head so far up his aft that he couldn't see that Autobot sniper's shot headed his way, but I digress… We are in need of a new trinemate," he gestured to the blue seeker standing off to the side, Skywarp could not recall his name, who had gone unnoticed until now. "Preferably one with actual skills to back up their incessant boasting." Starscream smirked, dentals flashing in the dim lighting of the command center.

Clearly there was no love lost between the Air Commander and his former right wing.

Skywarp peered curiously at the solemn blue seeker in the corner, wondering if he was taking the loss of Slipstream and his expeditious replacement with the same cold indifference.

The aloof blue seeker turned his gaze upward to meet the curious glance of the younger mech.

In that instant, Skywarp's entire existence funneled down to two burning points of light. Fiery optics that could have melted steel locked onto his in an intense gaze that would be forever burnt into Skywarp's databanks.

Those brilliant twin flames blazed through the darkness of Starscream's shadow, and for the first time, the young Skywarp really looked at the blue seeker.

Proud cobalt wings were held erect over a sleek, deadly frame. The flyer's systems thrummed with a deep, resonating power, as pitfire optics assailed Skywarp's very spark. 'Naïve youngling,' they seemed to chastise, 'there is more to might than pomposity and theatrics.'

Skywarp was torn from his staring match by the clearing of Starscream's vocalizer.

"W-What?" he asked, still shaken.

"Do you accept?" the red seeker repeated, amused.

The youngling gave him a blank look, to which Starscream replied with an exasperated blast of his vents, "Look, I don't have to explain my reasoning to an insignificant underling like you. But if you must know, we only have a limited range of low ranking seekers to choose from. All ranking seekers, with the exception of Thundercracker and myself, are currently members of full trines. Your special ability sets you apart from the mediocrity. Hopefully it will help you to keep up with us, as our new right wing. So, do you accept?"

"WHAT?!" Skywarp exclaimed, shocked at his fortune.

Starscream quirked an optic ridge, "Am I going to have to repeat the question _again_?"

"N-no. I mean, yes. Yes, I accept."

"Finally a semi-coherent response! Very well then, from now on you will be staying in Kaon. I have a meeting with Megatron," he turned to the cruel, angular visage of the Decepticon commander that had just appeared on the central monitor. "Thundercracker will show you to your quarters. Dismissed."

Skywarp followed the blue seeker, Thundercracker, out of the command center. His unease was almost tangible as he hesitantly trailed his new wingmate down the deserted corridor, the silence ringing in his audios. Skywarp despised silence, but felt disinclined to try starting a conversation with the cold flyer, with his pitfire gaze.

To his surprise, Thundercracker spoke first. His deep, placid voice cut through the stifling atmosphere, startling Skywarp with its unexpected contrast to his intense presence.

"This is a war, mechs will die."

"What?" Skywarp mentally flinched. If he kept this up, his new trinemates would think he was a dim-spark with a completely monosyllabic vocabulary.

"I saw you staring, obviously," Thundercracker elaborated, seemingly ignoring the younger seeker's less-than-eloquent response. "It wasn't too difficult to figure out what you were thinking. You younglings are all the same. A few more vorns of this war and you'll become as callous as the rest of us. You'll have to, if you want to survive." Thundercracker spoke as if he was trying to convince himself just as much as Skywarp. "If you take every deactivation to spark, your grief will consume you."

Skywarp thought he saw a ghost of pain flit across Thundercracker's faceplates, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

"So, you don't miss Slipstream?" Skywarp asked, sounding very much like the naïve youngling he tried so hard to leave in his past.

Thundercracker gave a brief rumbling chuckle, surprising Skywarp with the way his previously cold features briefly brightened in amusement.

"Slipstream? No. To be blunt, Slipstream was an incompetent aft."

Skywarp grinned. He couldn't help it. Thundercracker's relaxed, sonorous voice was putting him at ease. It was hard to imagine that this same seeker had appeared so intimidating barely two breems ago.

He chanced a discreet look at his companion. Thundercracker was a powerful seeker. There was no denying it as he eyed the sleek, yet virile, form of the flyer, his deadly angles and massive thrusters all the more apparent in the full lighting of the corridor. It was so strange to see him at ease, all traces of his earlier menace gone. The confused youngling was shaken from his thoughts by the calm voice of Thundercracker.

"It is unfortunate that he was terminated. But really, it's better for the trine. Slipstream schemed his way to the top. That slagger had connections, I'll give him that, but he was a poor excuse for a seeker. I always felt exposed on my right in trine formation. Maybe that will change," he gave Skywarp a critical look.

The remainder of the long walk passed in comfortable silence, Thundercracker seeming to exhaust his limited capacity for chattiness. It was only when they reached the door to Skywarp's new quarters that the blue seeker spoke again.

"Skywarp, right? I saw your file."

"Yeah, that's my designation."

"Well, I have drills to oversee, com me if you need anything vital. Anything less and I will turn you into spare parts."

A private com frequency pinged off of Skywarp's firewalls, which he quickly adjusted to allow for communication.

"Okay, TC. I'll see you at maneuver practice at 0630," Skywarp said cheerily, in what was the very first of millions of com communications to be exchanged between the two.

"Do _not_ call me TC," was all Thundercracker replied as he retreated down the corridor, icy demeanor firmly back in place.

Well, that was strange, Skywarp thought to himself, as he relaxed on his berth. He had only known Thundercracker for a few breems, yet he got the distinct impression that such gregariousness was extremely unusual. And then a stray thought crossed his processor. An idea so absurd it caused Skywarp to break down into a fit of cackling laughter. The blue seeker could not have deliberately warmed up to put him at ease, could he? Still laughing, Skywarp discarded the idea as utterly ridiculous. Imagine, an empathetic Decepticon!


	4. Beginnings: Part II

Author's Note: At last, an update! Thank you all for being patient with me. I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

For the sake of brevity, I have left out a lot of my imagined backgrounds for both Thundercracker and Skywarp. As sometimes I get confused between what is in my headspace and what is on paper, let me know if there is anything that doesn't make sense, or if there is any discontinuity.

TFAKM OP: I am so excited to hear from you! TicTac, since I can't respond to your anonymous review privately, I just wanted to let you know that I am very happy that you are enjoying the story thus far!

As always, thank you to my super beta Kapu37! The awesomeness that is the "Oh, Megatron" song is all her doing ;)

**Chapter 3 - Beginnings: Part II**

An empathetic Decepticon, indeed, mused Skywarp as he continued to recline haphazardly in the security console chair. Perhaps if he knew then what he did now about Thundercracker, he would not have been so quick to dismiss the notion.

He was beginning to lose sensation in his wingtips, the wires connecting them to his sensory network constricted by the unnatural angle of his wings as they pressed against the arms of the chair. Leaning forward, he shook out the numb appendages, cringing as an unpleasant tingle crept along the planar surfaces as energon rushed back to starved mechanisms. Unhappily, he poked at one his ailerons, hissing when this inevitably made the sting worse.

Fragging chairs.

With an irritated grumble, he slumped back into a reclining position, bringing his pedes up to rest on the console in an impudent manner. It was a very Starscream-like gesture. However, unlike Starscream, he would never have attempted such a thing during regular duty hours, with Megatron present. He liked his wings unmarred and in one piece.

With an efficiency born out of millennia of serving monitor duty, he ran his optics over the countless external feeds. Yet from every camera angle, the view was the same—endless miles of tumultuous black ocean.

Savage waves beat a violent tattoo against all manner of flotsam and jetsam, as the warring winds sang a shrill and foreboding song. The surface-level cameras were rendered useless, as frigid walls of water crashed relentlessly over the lenses.

There would be no Autobots tonight. Even if they could bring themselves to break their predictable routine of attacking during the day, they would never make it through the storm.

Seeing that watching the external feeds was utterly pointless, he switched his attention to the internal feeds, which showed the entirety of the Nemesis, save for their commander's private quarters.

The med bay was unusually busy for this time of night. Most of the Constructicons were huddled around what Skywarp could only assume was Megatron's latest doomsday weapon.

Scrapper's schematics were littered about the room in a careless manner most unlike the organized engineer. Several of said data pads appeared to have been damaged or destroyed by a corrosive agent. A particularly nasty corrosive agent, if the large chunk missing from one of the metal repair berths was any indication.

Hook was currently shouting at Mixmaster, who was failing to contain his laughter as Long Haul and Scavenger hurriedly fought to contain the spill.

The purple flier rolled his optics.

The chaos overtaking the med bay had become a common occurrence on the eve of an energon raid.

Megatron, as usual, had demanded the completion of Starscream's latest weapon design before the next battle the moment it was presented to him by the Seeker.

Never mind the complexity of said weapon, the unavailability of materials, and Scrapper's lengthy estimation of the time needed to complete the project properly.

Megatron wanted his new toy. _Now_.

The Constructicons, already pressed for time, and further slowed by Hook's ridiculous perfectionism, were forced to work all night to finish the weapon.

Clearly tensions were running high in the med bay; as the deadline loomed, so did the threat of being on the business end of a fusion cannon.

The screen nearest Skywarp showed Starscream's lab, purposely placed in a central location so that Megatron could keep an optic on his treacherous Second-in-Command. This monitor had been replaying a hastily cut five breem loop for as long as Skywarp cared to notice.

He wondered what nefarious plot his trineleader was concocting at this Primus-forsaken hour. Though he could not see what Starscream was doing, he was clearly scheming away in his lab. He was not in his quarters and was not showing up on any of the other monitors.

Regardless of what his trineleader's latest bid for leadership entailed, it would undoubtedly end the same as always, with the dent-ridden red seeker laid out on the floor of the command center, begging for mercy.

Honestly, this latest plot was so transparent that it was like Starscream _wanted_ Megatron to catch him.

Tiredly, Skywarp checked his chronometer. He would not get much recharge before the battle in the morning.

He had been avoiding recharge at all costs, fearing a repeat of this morning's teleportation glitch. As time crawled, astroseconds creeping by with painful slowness, he began to regret his uncharacteristic caution. He would gain nothing by being undercharged during a fight, other than a trip to the med bay for being slow under fire.

As he scanned over the remaining monitors, his optics were drawn to the crowded recreation room, the only part of the ship that was busy regardless of the time.

It looked as though second shift had finally been dismissed, as the previously empty tables were now filled with energizing mechs. Well, all the tables but one.

Thundercracker was still occupying his usual corner table, withdrawn from the rest. The disposable grunts that formed the second shift did not dare approach the meditative seeker, so Thundercracker was left to brood in peace. The cube that Skywarp had given him sat half consumed and forgotten by his side as he stared at some unknown point in the distance, lost in thought.

Watching him on the feeds was like watching one of the ancient winged statues in the city center of Kaon. Mechs milled in and out of the room in a flurry of activity—energizing, chatting, picking fights—while Thundercracker remained perched on his chair, a silent, stony witness, seemingly frozen in time. Wings still and optics far-away, he passively observed the bustle surrounding him without really seeing any of it.

Finally, he stood with a stretch and began the long trek back to his quarters.

The elder flyer's wings, though held high in the proud manner of all seekers, seemed to be stubbornly fighting more than gravity as he entered his private sanctuary. Only once completely alone did he allow them to droop even the slightest bit.

Time weighted heavily on Thundercracker. Skywarp watched as the mech who he once regarded as an indomitable fortress of strength finally began to crumble under the strain of millennia of bad memories he was forced to bear alone. Skywarp recalled his trinemate's words from earlier.

"Do you ever think how we may die in this war, alone?"

Skywarp wondered what thoughts plagued his wingmate that led the other to make such a depressing pronouncement.

As soldiers, death was never very far away. Thundercracker had defied the odds surviving as long as he had, so why now was he suddenly concerned with his own mortality?

Even in the solitude of his own quarters, the elder seeker's expression betrayed nothing.

As Thundercracker settled into recharge, the strain finally left his frame. Skywarp could not help himself as a rare candid smile began to form, small and barely perceptible, but nevertheless forming telling cracks in his carefully constructed facade. It was neither a smirk of malice, a sneer of contempt, nor even a playful grin tugging at the reluctant corners of his mouth. A whisper of a tender smile, unguarded emotion reflected with startling honestly in his optics, passed across his face as he gazed fondly at the blue seeker.

He quickly blanked his expression, chagrined by his show of affection, even though the only witnesses to his sentimentality were the deep sea fish attracted to the dim lights of the command center. They flitted about the wide expanse of glass covering the exterior wall as though mocking him. Skywarp glared at a particularly smug looking angler fish.

Decepticons do not show weakness, he reminded himself sternly.

The unwelcome emotions assaulting his spark frustrated Skywarp, scared him even. Growing up surrounded by the truculent members of the Decepticon Army had left him with very little exposure to the softer emotions, and thus he rejected the foreign feelings he did not fully understand. Yet, to say that he was universally treated with cold indifference or outright cruelty since he joined the ranks was not quite the truth.

As a youngling, he could always count on Thundercracker to watch his back.

In hindsight, to place such faith in a comrade was most unwise considering the general character of the Decepticon troops, but the older seeker never betrayed the young flyer foolish enough to trust him.

As Skywarp watched his peacefully recharging wingmate, his own lack of rest was again brought to the forefront of his processor.

His optics were aching and dim as they fought for their share of the energy from his dwindling reserves. His wings, the very structures that allowed him to defy gravity, now weighted heavily on his frame as though they had been constructed of the densest Cybertronian alloy.

He powered down his optics.

"Just to conserve energy," he told himself, as he lowered his heavy helm to rest on the security console.

He would not recharge.

The threat of his secret being discovered by Thundercracker was too great.

He would not recharge.

He _could not_ recharge.

* * *

He really should have seen it coming.

The young flyer mentally berated himself, as pain lanced through his frame.

Gazing sullenly at the tattered remains of what used to be his left wing, he faltered to his pedes. The torn wires at the base of his wing were sparking badly, but that was minor damage compared to what was left of his wing support structure. The once precision straight beams now resembled a piece of macabre modern sculpture. It was no use trying to transform, as he was clearly not airworthy.

Out of instinct he performed a quick systems diagnostic, growling when it confirmed what was plainly obvious to his optic sensors: critical structural failure.

His visual display lit up with a long list of malfunctions and failures - some important, some not-so-much.

Left wing strobe: failure

No kidding. Skywarp snorted. Great, now how would he signal his landing back at base? Never mind how he would take-off when his_ entire wing_ had been sheared clean off by enemy fire.

Warp gate generator: failure

_What?_ Now he was stuck, grounded in the middle of a battlefield.

What was Starscream always preaching to him?

"Always watch your wings," the voice of the Air Commander manifested itself inside the youngling's head. "A grounded seeker is a deactivated seeker."

Oh, he was so not looking forward to debriefing. He was going to get an audio full… in front of the entire wing. How embarrassing.

"Slagging groundpounder, you are so going to get it," he swore quietly as he surveyed the field for the Autobot who shot him out of the sky.

It did not take him long to spot a large red Autobot in the distance wielding a laser canon. Gold officer stripes glinted in the evening sun. He raised his arm cannon, wing hurting terribly and vengeance on the processor.

He called up his long-range targeting system.

"Time to die, Autoscum," he hissed as he prepared to issue the command to fire.

His traitorous arm began to shake.

"Okay. Intake, expel, shoot. Come on 'Warp, you've got this," he mentally coached himself. "He's just a useless Autobot. An enemy."

A Cybertronian, like him.

The very same life force that pulsed within that mech's chassis pulsed beneath his own armored plating.

Did he really want to extinguish that spark?

"Yes," he whispered brutally, steadying his aim.

It was with a frustrated shriek a moment later that he realized he could not take the shot. The Autobot officer's optics shot towards the direction of the noise, and fell on Skywarp. The Autobot did not hesitate—he raised his weapon and fired.

Skywarp ignited his thrusters and dodged behind the crumpled remains of a devastated building. The blast would have clipped his left wing, had it not already been incinerated.

Huddled behind a small pile of debris, Skywarp heard the sound of approaching pedes. Readying his arm cannons, he repeated his mantra: "Intake, expel, shoot."

Peeking out from behind his cover, he was just about fire when he heard the roar of jet engines above. He watched as the five advancing Autobot infantry were quickly disposed of in a brilliant hail of laser fire. The seeker abruptly cut their engines, falling silently behind Skywarp.

A black hand shot out to cover his mouth, muffling his undignified, surprised squawk, as he was pulled deep into the shadows of the collapsed building. It wasn't until they were situated behind a flame scorched wall, fallen metal beams obscuring their position from the sky above and covering them in shadow, that the other released his hand.

"'Warp, what are you doing?" Thundercracker's hushed voice was slightly raised in pitch, his optics continually scanning the battlefield. His wings twitched every which way, checking for air disturbances caused by large weapon fire. The blue seeker was on edge, looking like he would take back off into the sky at any moment, like any reasonable seeker would—but he never did.

"Warp yourself back behind our lines!"

"Can't. That last shot knocked out my warp gate generator."

Thundercracker made a frustrated hiss, tossing his head to the side.

The blue seeker was clearly unhappy with being on the ground. He subtly transferred his weight from pede to pede in a visibly agitated manner. His unease was understandable. The air was their element.

In the sky, it was said that they elevated war to the level of art, engines singing as they danced gracefully to the tune of chaos and devastation, like the beautiful, deadly weapons of war they were designed to be. On the ground, seekers were notoriously off-balance and clumsy. Easy targets.

"We have to work our way to the north. The front line is not far. How is your ammo?"

"We?" Skywarp eyed the other seeker's two perfectly functional wings, held high in stress.

Thundercracker ignored his query, "How is your ammo?"

"Fine." He looked down at his thrusters in shame; he had hardly fired a shot. It was then that he noticed Thundercracker's powerful turbine heels, like his, were being scuffed and marred by the debris all around them.

"Listen, TC," his wingmate let out a soft growl at the unwanted nickname, "Get back to Starscream. I'll make it back on my own. I got myself out of scrap like this so many times in the CADF."

Thundercracker gave him a long-suffering look.

"I seem to remember reading in your file that you were never stationed in a combat zone."

"I still encountered some Autobots on my patrol circuit."

"Sure you did. When you were flying over _neutral_ territory, _pre_-war."

"Uh... I can do this. Just go back to Starscream. Thanks for the help, but I don't need it." He charged his weapons with an audible whine.

Two Autobot soldiers passing near their hiding place paused at the noise.

Thundercracker quickly pulled him up against the wall, wings pressed firmly against the surface as he struggled to fit their large bodies into the scanty shadows provided by their limited cover.

As the Autobots neared, he paused the nervous flicking of his ailerons, dark and still, though his expression betrayed his unease. Skywarp dampened his ventilation system, afraid that even the quiet humming of his internal fans would draw attention. He felt foolish until he noticed that Thundercracker had done the same, whether intentionally or out of instinct was Skywarp's guess.

Finally, after what seemed like vorns, the scouts moved on and Thundercracker relaxed his hold on the youngling.

"See that mech, way over there?" Thundercracker indicated a small, green Autobot scout in the distance. "Deactivate him."

Skywarp shot the other seeker a look. Thundercracker gazed back at him with an unreadable expression. How much had his trinemate seen?

"Whatever." Skywarp dismissed, raising his arm cannon to target the unfortunate scout.

His arm started shaking again.

"Frag it!" he swore, trying vainly to lock on his target. He could feel the other's optics on him.

He felt Thundercracker move behind him, air expelling from his vents in a sigh that almost sounded... sad.

"Do you remember the training simulation Starscream had you run the other orbital cycle?" he whispered in Skywarp's audio, as he leaned closer to look down the length of his trinemate's gun barrel.

Skywarp stiffened at the other seeker's proximity.

"Yeah. What about it?"

"As I recall, you did quite... well." The word drifted off Thundercracker's lips like a caress.

"310 points," Skywarp said proudly, "31 kills at 10 points each."

"Hmm... that is a difficult simulation." Skywarp thought he could detect a hint of pride in the other's voice, before it turned steely. "Five points if you hit that Autobot, ten if he deactivates."

"This is hardly a game! Those are _real_ Autobots out there, with_ real_ weapons." A stray laser shot hit close to their hiding place, as if to punctuate his statement. "Seriously, what is your malfunction?"

He turned to face Thundercracker in disbelief. He was close, so close.

Molten optics looked back at him, cryptic as ever. The other seeker turned his gaze back down Skywarp's gun barrel.

Black hands reached out to steady his trembling arm, as he charged his weapon.

"Ten points," the lips against his audio whispered.

Intake, expel.

He fired.

* * *

The Decepticon troops returned to the Kaon base as darkness descended upon Cybertron, the last of the sun's rays sinking beneath the horizon.

Dented, dirty, and with transformation seams full of grime, they nevertheless wore fierce smiles, stubbornly holding their exhausted frames erect with pride as they made their way to the recreation area of the base. A spirited bout of "Oh, Megatron" broke out amongst one of the combiner teams, and was swiftly picked up by the rest.

There's a bot you might know

By his shoulder cannon's glow

The leader of the 'Cons-Megatron!

They had finally secured the outer rim of Kaon. The entire city state was now in Decepticon hands. From their stronghold in the fortress city of Kolkular, they could command an enormous offensive against the Autobots in the north.

The Command Trine was among the last to join the impromptu celebration, having to make a necessary stop by the med bay.

"Hey TC," a resigned huff at the nickname, "340."

"Yeah, Skywarp. You win." Thundercracker replied morosely.

The petulant seeker sat on a repair berth, wings slightly drooped, as he moodily picked debris out of his thrusters, glaring as though each little bit of metal had personally wronged him.

Wow, he had no idea his trinemate was such a sore loser. The youngling gave a cheeky grin.

"Well, aren't you going to tell me your score, or was it really that bad?"

"I don't _know_, Skywarp." Thundercracker snapped, shocking the other with a rare show of temper.

"Wait, you didn't even keep count?" Skywarp was outraged. How was he supposed to know if he really won the game if his boorish trinemate did not even keep his score?

"No. I did not."

"What the slag is he going on about now?" Starscream ground out irritably, as Scrapper used a pair of pliers to remove the tiny bits of shrapnel imbedded deeply within one of his wings. "Or has our dear Little Glitch finally short-circuited?"

"I have not short-circuited!" Skywarp said immediately, "TC and I were playing a game, but he didn't keep track of his score."

"A game?" Starscream actually looked intrigued, "What was the objective?"

"To deactivate Autobots," the youngling replied cheerfully, "Five points for each hit, ten for each termination."

"Oh." Starscream's sour expression that he usually wore during repairs melted away, replaced with a downright vicious grin. "Sounds like fun. Did you create this game?"

"No. TC did."

Starscream did not look surprised.

"Now Thundercracker, stop being a sore loser." Starscream gleefully chided as he met the cold optics of the cobalt seeker. "You are setting a bad example. Not everyone can be as ineffective as you."

Thundercracker, optics filled with hate and vocalizer ominously low, growled. "No, Starscream. In fact, I am afraid I was too effective."

Starscream simply smirked, "You knew that this would happen eventually. Quit being difficult, and let someone repair your thrusters."

"They are fine," Thundercracker snapped. "I got most of the debris out."

"If your thrusters choke next time we fly, I am not saving your sorry aft."

"I would," Skywarp chimed in. Both seekers looked towards the forgotten youngling, still undergoing repairs on his wing.

"How noble of you," Starscream chuckled.

Thundercracker gave him a peculiar look before swinging his legs up onto the repair berth, allowing an impatient Scrapper to look over his thrusters.

Repairs finished, Starscream made to leave. As the med bay door slid open, the distant cheers of celebrating mechs filtered into the room.

He's feared by femmes

He's got expertise!

That's our glorious leader-Megatron!

"Well done today, Little Glitch." The voice of his trineleader was viciously pleased, smirking as he tossed Skywarp a chamois. "You might want to clean up before the party, though. You smell like a stinking Autobot."

Skywarp beamed. However, even the rare praise from his wing commander could not erase the sinking feeling he felt in his fuel tank at the strange look Thundercracker gave him as he cleaned the spattered energon off of his armor.

The elder seeker looked as though Skywarp _himself_ had been lost.

Wing replaced, Skywarp turned to follow Starscream's path out the door. Thundercracker would perk up later. As much as he enjoyed the unobtrusive company of the reserved seeker, he was not about let the other's mood keep him from the victory celebration.

"See ya' later, TC," he called as he left.

The brooding flier watched as the youngling departed.

* * *

Skywarp swiftly walked down the corridor towards the recreation area. Thruster heels tapping brusquely as he made his way towards the party, determined not to miss a moment more than he had to. The distant sounds of merriment and jaunty signing called to him like a siren song.

But while the Nemesis sleeps,

He goes in and peeks,

In the Seekers' main wash racks! Hahahaha!

Skywarp smirked. He didn't seem to remember that verse originally being present in "Oh, Megatron." Ample high-grade had clearly caused the singing mechs to become rather creative with the lyrics.

As no cannon fire followed the song, Skywarp could only assume that Megatron was not present at the celebration.

If only Thundercracker was not so stubborn. His trinemate should be celebrating with him—drinking high-grade, shooting any drunken mech who dared to bother them, singing profane lyrics directed at their leader.

Well, Skywarp could not imagine the quiet Thundercracker singing any such thing, but still. He should be with him, not off sulking in the med bay.

Skywarp threw his arm to the side in a frustrated manner.

Instead of sweeping through the empty space of the corridor, his arm impacted against empty space, as the corridor dissolved around him and he was left in comfortable darkness.

* * *

The first thing Skywarp registered was a warm, familiar energy field, its sleepy tendrils slowly encircling the ebony seeker's form.

Mesmerized, he allowed the field to draw him in. Placid waves of strong, deep energy flowed over him.

Skywarp arched backwards with a soft moan, overwhelmed by the heady feeling of the power coursing through him, his circuits all igniting simultaneously, sending pleasurable jolts down his frame.

His moans became more insistent as the energy began a gentle pulsing, his internals clenching at regular intervals.

As though spurred on by the vocalizations of its captive, the energy, previously sedate, rolled full force irresistibly through his slightly shaking frame.

Skywarp let out a quiet keen as he was assailed by the crashing waves of erotic pleasure, reaching out his own energy field to entwine with the other.

As the fields met, flowing into one another, there was a satisfying crackle of static.

Skywarp wailed, desperately arching closer to the source of that exquisite energy, his front coming in contact with a cockpit.

Wait, a _cockpit_?

His optics flashed on as he came face to face with the sleeping form of Thundercracker.

At his terror, the energy withdrew immediately.

Even through the thick haze of fear clouding his processor, Skywarp mourned its loss.

The elder seeker looked troubled in his sleep, his facial expression slightly pinched with worry as he moved unconsciously toward Skywarp, seeking out the source of the delicious energy that was unceremoniously torn from him.

Too shocked to warp away, he simply stared at the other until he noticed Thundercracker's exotic, slightly slanted optics were dark.

The tension drained from Skywarp's frame as he realized that his trinemate's legendary ability to recharge through the Second Coming of Unicron had saved him yet again.

Emboldened, he examined the elegant face he had woefully little time to appreciate when the other was awake and he was forced to keep up pretenses.

Thundercracker's field soon began poking again at him in a hesitant, apologetic manner, like one would approach a frightened organic animal.

Realizing he had lingered far too long, Skywarp took one last look at his beautiful friend.

"Good night, TC," he whispered as he dared to brush a light kiss to his trinemate's optical ridge, his hand ghosting across the leading edge of an cobalt wing as a violet flash consumed the room, fading into darkness.


	5. Interlude I: Part I: From the Ashes

Author's Note: Hey all! This is the first interlude so it takes place from Thundercracker's POV and follows the events from chapters one and two.

To avoid confusion, let me state now that _all_ interludes are from Thundercracker's POV and _all_ main story text is from Skywarp's POV. This will never change.

A huge thank you to my beta readers Kapu37 and Kaede Akira. You guys are amazing!

**Interlude I: Part I – From the Ashes**

"Hey Boomer, give me a hand with this slag?"

The young seeker glanced up from his datapad, optics widening in surprise as he noted his mentor's current predicament.

"What in Primus' name is all this… stuff?" The charcoal and black seeker was straining under a jumbled mountain of unidentifiable circuitry and scrap metal.

"Pit if I know, the engineers on sub-level four called for it," the overburdened mech gave the staring youngling a long-suffering look. "Now Skyboom, I know this is an impressive pile of scrap, but will you please stop staring and _take some of it_?"

"Uh, yeah…" Skyboom finally moved to help the other flyer, looking rather sheepish. "Sorry, Thunderstrike."

"Come on, we need to get this down to the nerdybots." Thunderstrike set off down the corridor at a brisk walk, thruster heels tapping purposefully along the long corridor to the lift as Skyboom trailed in his wake.

"So why are we doing this?" Skyboom asked as Thunderstrike keyed in the access code to take the lift to the restricted experimental floor, "we're seekers, not groundpounding hauling vehicles."

"Most of the construction and hauling bots are stationed at Darkmount, building the new headquarters. Until then, it looks like we'll be doing some heavy lifting." Thunderstrike had a sour expression on his face, clearly not happy with his temporary reassignment to manual labor, but he did not complain.

The lift started to descend with a jolt, knocking Skyboom off-balance. Circuit boards and wires rained down upon the metal floor in an audio-piercing cacophony.

"This sucks slag," Skyboom growled, as he bent to pick up his load.

"Hm, your stance is weak," Thunderstrike remarked.

"This isn't a battlefield. It's a lift." Skyboom glared at his mentor, "I wasn't prepared. My stance is just fine."

"You should always be prepared for a possible attack. We'll run some drills after evening rations." Thunderstrike's tone, though soft, brooked no room for argument.

'That's if we have evening rations,' Skyboom thought miserably. Their energon supply was the lowest he could ever remember. Megatron's underground movement against Autobot oppression had gained a small foothold in Kaon, but they were still much too weak to launch a full-scale offensive in order to gain control of vital resources. Their small stockpile of energon was quickly drying up. Skyboom had long since shut off his critical energy warnings; the constant blaring red in his visual feed was irritating when there was nothing he could do about it.

Skyboom took a long cycle of air, as the lift doors opened with an obnoxious buzz to a flurry of activity. Engineers and scientists scurried around the labyrinthine corridors of sub-level four, disappearing into and reappearing from dozens of labs. They carried raw materials like those in Skyboom's own hands, as well as complicated-looking devices he couldn't even begin to guess the functions of.

"Where do you want this scrap?" Thunderstrike asked a harried looking scientist as he rushed past. The small, weak mech seemed cowed by the presence of the two seekers.

"Uh, over there, on the table." He pointed to a sturdy looking work bench set out in the corridor, before hurrying along. He disappeared into a corner lab, in his haste not bothering to key the door closed behind him.

Skyboom's hydraulics hissed in relief as he deposited his pile on the designated table. What project could these mechs possibly be working on that required so much raw material? Their supplies were meager, so it must be important.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he edged quietly towards the open door. Thunderstrike gave him a questioning look, but ignored him in favor of discussing the contents of a datapad that had just been thrust into his hands by a surly looking red mech.

Voices filtered through the door into the hallway. Skyboom leaned closer, increasing the sensitivity of his audio receptors to maximum.

"We need to calibrate the harvester to hone in on spark energy," said one mech. His aristocratic accent designated him as an Iaconian educated mech.

"And how do you propose we do that? We have only been able to test it on field-generated impulses. They are a very poor approximation of spark energy."

"Simple, we gather subjects to test it on," the Iaconian replied, laconic.

"Shockwave, you cannot possibly be suggesting that we harvest the spark energy of our comrades?"

"Of course not. We cannot spare any of our number as it is." Shockwave replied, clearly unbothered by the startling accusation. "We will use the Empties. They are the intended target for the Spark Harvester, so we should test it on them."

Skyboom backed away from the door, schooling his horrified expression into a neutral mask as two scientists passed, carrying a huge sheet of alloy between them. They both greeted him with a nod of acknowledgement, which he returned with a haughty glare. He quickly found Thunderstrike, now thoroughly engrossed in an argument with the red mech.

"If you expect me to carry," Thunderstrike gave the datapad in his hands a cursory glance, "'20 kiloton cybertronium alloy beams' down here, you clearly need your processors checked, dirt kisser."

"Megatron wants the harvesters up and running within the next half-vorn, before we all starve, fly boy." The mech met his mentor's glare, his unattractive face contorted in annoyance.

"Harvesters?" The mech opened his mouth for what Skyboom was certain would be a long-winded, monumentally dry explanation abounding with complicated technical jargon. Clearly Thunderstrike was thinking along the same lines, because he quickly added, "never mind. It is irrelevant. Just find someone more suited to manual labor to do your dirty work."

He tossed the datapad carelessly on the table, motioning to Skyboom to follow him to the lift. As the doors closed, he turned to the youngling. "Okay Boomer, what is bothering you?"

Skyboom gave his mentor a surprised look.

"Oh, please. You are as easy to read an unencrypted datafile." Thunderstrike laughed at the youngling's offended glare. "You may be skilled at masking your feelings from others, but you're not fooling me."

"I'll be in my quarters," Skyboom said quietly, "I want to be alone."

"Does that mean I won't get any recharge tonight?" Thunderstrike chuckled. They shared quarters due to the limited space available in the temporary base. Skyboom didn't answer, striding off in the direction of the living quarters as soon as the lift doors opened, leaving his confused mentor to watch his stiffly held wings retreat down the corridor.

* * *

The telltale beeps of the familiar sounding key code gave him precious little time to compose himself before the door hissed open, light pouring in from the corridor to fill the dim room.

Skyboom reset his optics, glaring at his mentor's silhouette in the doorway.

"What is it, Boomer?" Thunderstrike began, his unease almost tangible as he perched on the corner of Skyboom's berth, awkwardly reaching out to run a soothing hand down his helm. His touch was feather light against the black grooves of quietly stuttering vents.

Skyboom jerked away from the hesitantly offered comfort as though burnt. Bristling with hurt pride, he fixed Thunderstrike with his most caustic glare.

"Do _not_ touch me," he growled. "I am a seeker warrior, not some pathetic sparkling for you to coddle."

His mentor gazed at him levelly, withdrawn hand sitting passively in his lap, but otherwise making no more to leave.

"You are avoiding my question," the dim claret of weary optics met bright vermilion, burning with youthful ardor.

"I asked to be left alone." Those intense red optics thinned to slits, threatening.

"So you expect me to recharge out in the corridor, still?" Thunderstrike laughed. "I really do not relish the idea of one of those brutish combiner teams you fragged off last orbital cycle deciding to get creative while I am inactive."

Skyboom's vents hiccuped in a brief chuckle. "Ah, but it was so much fun watching you slag those useless groundling scrap piles. Surely you can do it again?"

"Of course, but you really shouldn't antagonize them needlessly," air sighed from his vents. "I am not always going to be around to save your aft."

"I had it all under control, I just tripped. I would have recovered."

"Though we are strong, their plating is over three times as dense and twice as thick," Thunderstrike smirked. "In fact, it is almost as thick as your head."

A nearby polishing cloth promptly connected with Thunderstrike's face. As he removed the material he was met with the face of a smiling youngling.

"Slagger," Skyboom tried to sound annoyed, but failed as his vents hiccuped and he dissolved into laughter.

Thunderstrike briefly smiled before he sobered, "so what is bothering you, Boomer?"

Skyboom's face fell.

"You aren't going to give up." It was a statement, not a question.

"No."

The youngling collapsed back onto his berth, gazing resolutely up at the ceiling, refusing to meet Thunderstrike's optics as the other made himself comfortable, drawing his legs up onto the surface. The only sound was the hum of their systems, as the solemn grey seeker settled, waiting for the other to begin. Skyboom cycled his vents.

"I overheard the scientists on sub-level 4 talking about their new project." He darted a quick glance to his mentor sitting cross-legged on the berth, optics fixed firmly on his face. He looked poised as ever. Skyboom shook his helm, he was such a disgrace. "You do not want to waste your time with my foolish slag."

"Actually young one, I do." Thunderstrike gave him a look that clearly said to continue, leaving Skyboom to again question what his mentor saw in him.

"They are building something they call a 'Spark Harvester.' They are going to use it to drain the spark energy from living mechs to create energon."

"From whom?"

"The Empties."

"Oh." Thunderstike's shocked expression melted into indifference. "Boomer, the Empties are insensate wretches, driven by impulse. They do not think or feel, only hunger."

"They are still Cybertronian," Skyboom turned his face away, utterly ashamed as his vents hitched. Though a quiet noise, it echoed around the quiet room as loudly as a blaster shot. "They still have sparks… sparks to take."

"You have taken many sparks yourself, what makes the Empties any different?" Thunderstrike smirked, "Are you going soft-sparked on me?" His face fell when his teasing barb failed to garner a reaction from Skyboom.

"They are noncombatants - not my enemy. Primus, they have suffered under the Autobots just as we have, perhaps more. Subjugated and starved until there is nothing left!" Vocalizer rising in pitch until it phased to angry static, Skyboom glared at his mentor, willing the mech to understand, hating that he did not. "There is no honor in their deaths."

"Youngling…" Thunderstrike reached a hesitant hand out to rest on a cobalt shoulder, pausing briefly when a threatening growl rumbled through the room. "Sometimes I forget how young you are." He gave a small, sad smile. "This is a war. Perhaps not officially, yet, but soon we will launch our offensive." The elder seeker's optics flared with a passion seldom seen outside of battle as he looked off into the distance, as if seeing the end of a long journey on the horizon. "Finally we will be rid of those accursed Autobots and their fragging corruption. We will be _free._"

Skyboom felt the hand on his shoulder move to his wing, absently running along the undersides.

"But, for that, we will need energon." Thunderstrike's optics dimmed as he looked to the youngling, watching him silently from his prone position on the berth. "I don't need to remind you of the dismal state of our reserves."

Gray hands left Skyboom's wing to briefly trail over his cockpit, right over his empty fuel tank, before returning to trace an aileron. His systems hummed contentedly at the soothing touch.

"Without the spark energy of the Empties, we will starve. Sacrifices have to be made… This is a war, mechs will die."

"I know," Skyboom's voice was quiet as he sat up to fully lock optics with his mentor, batting his hand away with a glare. "Don't touch me."

"Of course," Thunderstrike's voice lilted with amusement. It was with no small amount of embarrassment that Skyboom realized he had been purring; he, the deadly seeker warrior, had been purring like a sparkling. A deep rumbling growl filled the room for a second time as chagrined crimson met amused sanguine.

"Hey, calm down, like I'm going to say anything." Thunderstrike's optics danced as his mouth upturned into a teasing smirk, "though it was rather cute."

A loud clang rang throughout the room as a datapad found its mark on the side of Thunderstrike's helm.

* * *

BOOM!

Thundercracker was shaken from his thoughts by a deafening boom. Recalibrating his audios, he glared at the source of the noise. Rumble and Frenzy appeared to be playing some sort of game.

Rumble's arms were transformed into pile drivers, which he was using on the thick metal floors, with seemingly no other purpose than to deafen everyone within audio range. Frenzy retaliated with his signature sonic attack. A mere annoyance compared to the devastation that could be wrought by his own, but an annoyance nonetheless.

Clutching his helm in his hands, he wished for a moment that he could be more like his younger trinemate and just go over there and slag those little terrors. Experimentally, he stretched out his arm. His inbuilt canon came to life with a soft whirr, causing the second shift grunts at the next table to scatter. He sighed, lowering his arm. He was off duty and tired. He'd had enough mindless destruction and violence for one day.

He wondered, not for the first time, why he didn't just retreat to the quiet solitude of his quarters. It wasn't like the company in mess was particularly stimulating. He could think of much more preferable company.

He checked his chronometer. Skywarp should be starting his monitor duty in a half-megacycle. He hadn't seen him since that morning's teleportation fiasco.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

"You better watch it twerps, or I'm gunna bust you up. Hahahaha." Wildrider, an insane gleam in his optics, rose from the table he was sharing with the rest of his gestalt.

"Oh, yeah?" Rumble puffed out his chest, showing his pile drivers. "I'd like to see you try…"

Boom. Boom. Boom. BOOM!

* * *

BOOM!

Skyboom tried not to flinch as the Harvester Units groaned in the distance, the sound of rending metal twisting in his fuel tanks as one of the machines crunched down on yet another hapless victim.

"Easy there, Boomer." Thunderstrike was at his side, panning his inbuilt cannon in a wide arc, keen optics searching for trouble. The narrow alleyways of Dead End sprawled around them, ramshackle buildings lining the streets. The dull optics of the Empties shone from every dark threshold, every corner. They watched the outsiders with a vague interest, diminished by hunger. The Harvesters would arrive to take them soon.

"Hey, pretty wings!" An Empty with a functioning vocalizer grabbed at Skyboom from a darkened threshold. "Spare some Energon?" Skyboom wrinkled his optical sensor; the mech reeked of lubricant. Rust spots littered his dented, weathered frame.

"Um, no…" He tried to pull away, but the mech had a vice grip on his forearm. Most Empties were weak, barely mobile. This mech was _much _too strong. He brought his other arm cannon up to the Empty's face, but didn't fire. This fragger's spark would provide much-needed energy for the resistance when the harvesters arrived. "Let me go."

"Mm, I don't think so." The mech grabbed his other arm, dragging them behind his wings with a power that an Empty simply _should not possess_. Caught off guard, Skyboom was easily disarmed. Thunderstrike raised his weapon to fire, but the mech was too quick, shielding himself with the captive Skyboom.

Skyboom looked back at the other seekers, embarrassed that he had been subdued so easily. He wasn't too concerned about his well-being; the others would soon find a way to get him out of this mess. How dangerous could one pathetic Empty be? Other than a bruised ego, he would be fine. He sighed. Thunderstrike was never going to let him live this one down.

He could see a few of the seekers stealthily working their way behind the mech while the rest stayed gathered in the alley, weapons raised and online, holding the mech's attention. The surrounding Empties seemed to be drawn to the action, encircling the seekers.

Wait.

He looked down at the waist of the Empty holding him captive, past his filthy, beaten exostructure. His inner gears were _pristine_.

"AMBUSH!" he screamed, his vocalizer cracking at the volume. The 'Empties' ran to entrap the seekers. Catching his captor by surprise, Skyboom managed to free his left arm. One shot and he was in the air with his wing, firing on the disguised Autobots below, before the mech's graying body had even hit the ground.

He could see other wings taking to the air in the distance. The Autobots were everywhere; he had never seen an attack of this magnitude. An explosion decimated a building not far to the north, his groundling comrades scattering for cover. He looked around for the source of the blast, sighting a small unit of tanks escorted by a squad of Autobot infantry. He quickly checked Thunderstrike's position before rocketing off after them, powering up his sonic weaponry.

He swooped low over the unit, the rumbling baritone of his engines dropping into a subsonic tremor that shook the Autobot ground troops down to their very bolts. They clutched their sparks, rattling in their chassis, confusion written on their faces, a moment before the thunderous wave of sound smashed into the unit, tossing the tanks into the air like they were made of the thinnest seeker alloy, shredding through the ground troops, leaving nothing but unidentifiable metal bits and sparking wires. Skyboom surged along his wave of devastation, spark pounding in his audios, feeling the powerful ripple of the sonic pulses under his wings.

He banked once around the decimated tanks, laughing fiercely as he surveyed the damage, before flying off to find his unit. It was mere astroseconds before he felt the first shudder of his engines. His critical fuel warning was eerily silent, even as he felt the sickening pull on his fuel tanks. His sonic blast had consumed too much energon. He had no idea his fuel levels were so low; how foolish he had been to disable his warning system.

Skyboom dove behind the charred husk of a shanty school. He could feel his fuel pumps straining as the last of his reserve fuel was eaten up by his thrusters, which throttled in panic despite his best efforts to remain calm.

His training told him to call for assistance before shutting down all non-vital systems. His spark told him that assistance would never arrive. The fledgling resistance movement was poorly organized, the proper channel through which he should call for help unclear. Even if he did route his request correctly, his comrades had been numbed by vorns of Autobot repression. Loss was an old wound, calloused over.

"Skyboom to Thunderstrike." His comlink was open, the hail sent, before he realized how puerile he sounded. The silence that greeted his hail confirmed what he already knew – Thunderstrike would not be coming. A proper warrior did not go back for fallen weaklings.

As his world was taken from him by a narrowing radius of black, he found himself fighting stasis. He was a soldier; he would fight to the end.

He stumbled into the narrow, dark alleyway behind the school as blaster fire shook the surrounding buildings. He would not give an Autobot sniper the satisfaction of a cheap shot at an offlining seeker. He struggled to see through his failing vision, cursing when his pede impacted with a large chunk of metal debris. He narrowed his optics, trying to focus on the obstacle. He could barely make out the hazy outline of a mech.

Skyboom leaned down, touching cautious hands to bleeding wing nubs. The fallen mech was a seeker. He jerked back when the mech gave a pained wheeze, spluttering up energon onto the ground. Barely there embers flashed on behind the ruined face.

"Hey there, Boomer."

Skyboom dropped to his knees, indifferent to the firefight now raging around them. The seeker's plating was charred black. Without his characteristic colors, he was unidentifiable to all but his trinemates. But Skyboom would know that voice anywhere - Thunderstrike.

For a moment he could not speak. He gazed in horror at the mess of sparking wires, frayed and melted, at armored plates, rent and torn. His energon starved processor must be glitching, his hazy tunnel vision lying to him. The last hallucination before he died. The mech on the ground, burnt and twisted beyond recognition, was _not_ Thunderstrike.

"I'm that bad, huh?" The mech chuckled. His spark gave a lurch at the familiar sound.

"Thunder…" He offlined his optics. He did not want to see his mentor like this, the powerful seeker reduced to ruin. "Thunderstrike… how?"

"Missile. Those Autobots have really upped their game," another laughing wheeze. Skyboom wished he'd stop. He felt sick. "Haven't seen one of those since Gale and Streak…"

Thunderstrike faded into silence. He did not mention his trinemates often. Skyboom had never met them. They had been deactivated vorns ago.

"They died in the CADF, spent their entire lives serving Autobots." A hand cupped his cheek, tipping his face down towards where his mentor lay. He wondered in shame if Thunderstrike realized that he had deactivated his optics. "You'll see the end of this war. Someday, you'll be free."

There was no blaring internal siren, no flashing red warnings; just a sickening lurch of internals as Skyboom's pumps heaved their death throes.

'No I won't,' he thought silently as he felt his systems grind to a halt.

He fought to hide his weakness. If he could last just a little longer, Thunderstrike would be gone and he could offline in peace, knowing his mentor still thought him to be a worthy protégé.

His processor spun, bright colors flashing across his vision, fading into a series of digits, then ones and zeros. He could no longer hold his own weight, collapsing on the mech beside him. In terror, he realized this was it. He was going to _offline_.

Tentative hands ran over cobalt wings, soothing anxious thoughts with slow, relaxing circles. He felt the paneling covering the linkages in his arm being slid aside, passively allowing a connection to be snapped into place as his awareness faded into nothing.

* * *

"... mechs are pouring in from the Dead End ambush. We're going to have to call in reinforcements from Kaon. We can't handle this load."

"Primus Scrapper, haven't you been listening to the updates?"

"No, I've been piecing these poor fraggers back together. Why?"

"Their medics have enough on their hands as it is. The attack on Kaon was worse than we thought. Casualties were already in the thousands when they finally got a transmission through the Autobot block. The city was crushed."

"Primus..."

"He's awake."

Static formed into sound. He slowly powered on his optics, only to be met with a blinding white light.

"Am I offline?" He asked.

"Damn well near it," the voice answered. Skyboom tried to sit up, to see who was speaking to him, only to be shoved back down. For the first time, he noticed he was on a berth.

"Who are you?" He asked, anger warring with fear of being restrained in this unknown blinding white place. "Where am I? What do you mean Kaon was crushed?"

"I am Hook, engineer and medic." His optics adjusted to the light a bit more and he saw a green and purple mech standing above him. "Kaon was attacked by the Autobots today, just around the same time you were ambushed. I guess you entered stasis mode before they sent the distress call. Poor slaggers." Skyboom tried to rise from the berth, only to be shoved down again. "You are at Darkmount. This is the medbay."

So he was damaged? He ran a scan over his systems, noting that there was no damage other than superficial scratches and dents.

"What am I doing here? No damage…"

"Critical system failure, " Hook cut him off. "Your system log notes that it was caused by insufficient energon."

"But I'm functional?" It did not make sense. Memory came back to him slowly. He had run out of energon. He should be offline. Thunderstrike…

"Where is Thunderstrike?"

"Thunderstrike?" The purple and green mech looked at him, "The seeker they found with you?"

More hazy memory. Thunderstrike had been with him. He had been injured. Horribly injured. Dread seized his spark.

"He is offline," Hook said, as one would comment on the weather. "A horrible mess, but you should know that, since you survived by leeching off his systems."

"I what?" Skyboom was confused. He did no such thing.

"They found you with your energon lines connected."

"No," he whispered. He had never felt so alone.

* * *

"Credit for your thoughts?"

A glowing pink cube slid across the table into his field of vision. Thundercracker tore himself from old memory files to meet the cheeky grin of his youngest trinemate.

"Oh, hey 'Warp. It's nothing important really." It would be cruel of him to burden Skywarp with his memories. The other seeker looked exhausted. His vents were cycling a little faster than they should, and a quick thermal scan confirmed that he was running hot.

So he still had not recharged. Thundercracker could not even begin to guess what had been keeping the other mech from recharge, but he had long ago stopped trying to make sense of Skywarp's actions. He probably decided to skip recharge in favor of a prank. He had seen Rumble and Frenzy in the medbay earlier, when he had gone to have his thrusters checked. One of his turbines had been making strange noises lately, and he did not want them acting up during tomorrow's energon raid.

Speaking of… 'Warp really needed to get some recharge. He was liable to make mistakes in his current condition. Fatal mistakes. He'd offline like Thunderstrike, the name sent a pang through his spark, never knowing a life outside of war.

"Do you ever think how we may die in this war, alone?" Thundercracker asked, the question rising unbidden to his lips. He had never known peace, either. He knew loneliness well. The life of a Decepticon soldier was defined by loneliness; personal attachments were a weakness to be exploited, or worse, a potential chink in the armor of one seeker soldier who wanted to lose nothing else to the war.

Skywarp looked at him, really looked at him, and Thundercracker wished he had said nothing at all. For once, his impulsive trinemate seemed to be thinking about his response, considering the blue seeker with a small, thoughtful frown. Finally, much to Thundercracker's relief, that familiar smirk worked its way back on to Skywarp's face.

"Thundercracker, stop worrying. You and I have survived _vorns_ of this war. We aren't exactly easy to offline. Anyways, if we are terminated, I'll keep you company in the pit."

Thundercracker frowned. He did not want to think about termination, or the pit. Or Skywarp offline.

"Oh, come on TC, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Skywarp, this is a war, in case you've forgotten. Either of us could be offlined tomorrow. Sometimes skill isn't enough, like in the battle last week. So what if it was a lucky shot. What if Silverbolt had hit somewhere more critical, like your spark chamber? Lucky shot or not, you'd still be offline."

All it took was one lucky shot, one unexpected missile, to change everything.

For a few rare moments, silence reigned.

"Well, you are right. We can't control fate, but sitting around moping isn't exactly the best way to spend the time we do have to enjoy life, my little black rain cloud," Skywarp teased.

"Your what?" Thundercracker asked, looking puzzled. Skywarp said the _oddest_ things sometimes.

"Never mind, squishy expression," he hurriedly replied. "Point is, cheer up TC... Slag, I start my shift in a breem. Gotta jet, I'll see you at morning rations."

Skywarp paused right before he passed over the threshold, half turning to face him. So quietly that Thundercracker doubted he had heard it at all, figured it was the product of wishful thinking, he said, "and by the way, you are not alone."

* * *

He had been dismissed from the Darkmount medbay with a firm warning that he should not attempt flight for at least ten orbital cycles or else risk damage to his already stressed spark. It had been a long, claustrophobic flight back from Polyhex on the crowded transport shuttle, but that horror had been nothing compared to what greeted him upon his return home.

Hook had been right; Kaon had been decimated. The Autobots had attempted to crush the fledgling resistance with one decisive blow, launching a coordinated attack against their strongholds in Polyhex and Kaon. They had nearly succeeded.

He had not even been able to enter the underground base. All the entrances lay buried under mountains of rubble. Clearing them had been deemed pointless by the engineers, who had declared the support beams critically unstable. Cybertron would soon collapse in on itself, entombing what remained of his past under tons of immovable metal.

Having nowhere else to go, he wandered the ancient streets of the city center. Dusk had settled on Kaon, the dim light obscuring some of the damage. It was a moment before he realized he had entered the entertainment district. It was _almost_ possible to pretend that nothing had happened. The district had always been seedy and run-down. By this time, the lights of the Energon pubs should have been on, flooding the steets with their neon glow. There should have been a boisterous crowd of drunken mechs loitering outside, brawling and catcalling to the mechs displaying themselves on the street corner, their beautiful frames bathed in red light. But the streets were deserted, the buildings shuttered up and dark.

As he approached the central plaza, the city began to come to life again. It started as a quiet buzz, building into the deafening roar of a huge crowd as he entered the square.

A small group of mechs stood in the center on a raised platform. A solidly-built blue mech stood nearest to the edge, glancing stoically at the crowd. He wore both a visor and a face mask. Skyboom sneered, only cowards hid their faces. A bit further back, a sleek red and gray seeker stood proudly at attention. Now that was a mech, Skyboom decided.

The seeker wasn't looking at the crowd. His attention was directed to the center of the platform where the third mech stood. Skyboom's ventilation stilled. He'd never seen the mech before, but he knew instantly who he was. He was massive. His polished silver armor gleamed in the evening light, defying the dust that coated the ruined city like a shroud. An enormous black weapon was held ominously at his side, attached to one of his forearms. Skyboom had heard stories of what that weapon could do. _Megatron_.

"Kaonites," Megatron's voice cut through the angry roar of the crowd like an energon blade. "Long have we lived in the shadows, forced to toil away deep underground in the mines, never to reap the rewards of our hard labor."

That powerful voice resonated within Skyboom's very spark. He had been fighting in the resistance movement for as long as he could remember. His earliest memories were of him and Thunderstrike working through maneuvers high above the training pitch, before they were forced underground by the escalating war. Imprisoned far from their precious sky, they had begun to lose hope that they would ever live on the surface again. Then Megatron emerged from the mines to create a storm in the gladiatorial rings. They watched with the rest of Kaon as he rose through the ranks, reigniting the fierce hope in each of their sparks that they too could rise from their subservient existence to make something of their lives. When Megatron finally took command of the rebellion, they felt as though victory had already been assured.

Neither he nor Thunderstrike had ever met Megatron, but as Skyboom looked on at the mech, listened to him speak, he knew that the warrior exceeded his every expectation. He was magnificent. Thunderstrike should have been here to see this.

"Meanwhile the Autobots laze about in the sun, high in their opulent towers." Megatron sneered, his disgust towards their idle overlords apparent. He balled his fists, voice rising in righteous fury. "Towers that we built!"

A murmur of agreement passed through the crowd.

"That is why they have attacked us." Megatron's voice lowered to a deadly whisper. The crowd quieted, hanging on his every word. "Because they are _afraid_ of our strength. Every time they gaze across the skyline of their beautiful Iacon, they are reminded of our power."

"It is time that we ousted the Autobots." Megatron's voice deepened to an ominous growl. "Together, we will usher in a new era. Bearing this symbol," He gestured proudly to the sigil on his chest, "we are more than mere Cybertronians. We are Decepticons, the new Cybertronian order."

The crowd began to stir, the energy building in the air almost tangible. Skyboom began to hear whispers of 'revolution' among the mechs, a thought he echoed in his spark.

"Decepticons. It is time to rise up and claim what is rightfully ours!"

* * *

Skyboom entered the small room. A formidable black mech sat behind a desk. The mech had no need to stand; even sitting he towered over the slight seeker.

"My designation is Barrage. Why are you here?"

"I'd like to enlist." Despite his uneasiness, his voice came out strong, purposeful.

"We are always happy to have a seeker," Barrage sneered. "Do you have experience?"

"Of course. I've been a part of the resistance movement for vorns," he scoffed, voice dripping with typical seeker arrogance. "This is just a formality."

"Damn seekers." Barrage shook his large, pointed helm in exasperation. "Of course you'll fit right in with the rest of the winged glitches." He pulled up a new personnel file on his terminal. "Your wing commander will be responsible for placing you. All I need is your designation."

"Sky..." Skyboom paused then. Something about his designation felt wrong, like the peculiar feeling in his armor after a growth cycle. Events had changed him. The mech he had become was no longer recognizable as Skyboom.

"Thunder... cracker," he decided. "My designation is Thundercracker."

Barrage took down his designation before shutting down the terminal with a cruel smile. He leaned over, fishing behind his desk for something.

"So where do I sign?" he asked, growing bored with the tedium.

"Oh, you don't sign." Barrage sat up from behind his desk, his smile had turned downright sadistic. "We require something a little more binding." He stood up. The mech was enormous, barely fitting in the room. He approached the uneasy seeker twirling a long rod in his hands. It had the emblem he had seen at the rally on one end, the Decepticon sigil.

He eyed the symbol, startling when it crackled to life, blue tendrils of electricity jumping across the pointed face. It was an electro-brand. The red seeker had born those very same symbols on his _wings_.

"Oh Primus..." He shrunk down, taking a defensive posture as the black mech approached him with the crackling brand.

"Scared? You aren't going to back out now, are you?" Barrage chuckled darkly. "We do not tolerate weaklings in the Decepticon Army. You will swear lifelong allegiance to Lord Megatron in the only way that is fitting."

His spark pulsed in his audios as he eyed the brand hovering over his right wing. He could already feel the heat across his plating.

Thunderstrike had been certain that his protégé possessed enough strength to make it to the end of the war, had enough faith in him that he sacrificed himself, certain the other would survive to see victory. Now all he had to do was believe it himself, that he could make it.

Megatron's faction would win the war. He had been certain from the moment he heard him speak in the square. He would fight alongside the Decepticons, and someday he would finally know what it was to be free.

He met Barrage's optics, nodding his assent. The brand bit into his wing, his pain sensors igniting as the scream of damage warnings filled his processor. The second brand was applied to his left wing, the pain bringing him to his knees. At some point he was able to master it, to see through his agony, becoming aware of Barrage standing over him. The brand, now dark and cold, was held loosely at his side. The black mech smirked.

"Welcome to the Decepticon Army. Rise up, Thundercracker."


	6. Interlude I: Part II: TC Rising

Author's note: Sorry for the long delay! For the purposes of this fic, a hic equates to about a mile.

**Interlude I: Part II – Thundercracker Rising  
**

Thundercracker glided regally through the corridors of the Nemesis, the second shift grunts giving him a wide berth, as he made his way to his quarters. He didn't have far to walk – as an officer, they were on command level – but the hallways seemingly stretched on forever.

Usually Skywarp would have been with him, intimidating the little grounded weaklings for his own amusement, but the corridors were notably absent of his trinemate's sadistic cackle. At that moment, he would have even welcomed the smaller mechs' pathetic squeaks of terror, though he usually ordered Skywarp to leave them be. Anything to break the silence.

It was in these moments that he was able to think; to be alone, to meditate on _being_ alone. Skywarp's pointless cruelty, though generally unwanted, kept him grounded in the present. Skywarp was no longer that naïve little youngling, afraid to make the killing shot... he shivered. It had been so long since he thought of his trinemate as he once was.

The tapping of his thrusters echoed hauntingly along the corridor walls, but they were his own; There was no one to follow – Thunderstrike was long deactivated. There was no youngling following him – Skywarp was a calloused machine of war. He was alone.

His wings fought a losing battle against gravity, his losses bearing down on him like leaden weights. He held them stubbornly high, his stride steady and powerful as he gazed superiorly at the little groundeds; he was a Seeker elite. This war may have taken Thunderstrike and Skywarp from him, but he would not yield.

Only once he was in the privacy of his own quarters did he allow his wings to droop the slightest bit. Only once he was half in recharge, did he allow himself to entertain the agonizing hope that Skywarp wasn't totally lost.

* * *

The subtle tapping of black fingers on keys echoed through the command center as two Seekers sat alone, paging through endless personnel files. The tapping paused as one caught Thundercracker's interest.

"Designation: Stormgale," he read. "Currently stationed in…"

"Next," Starscream interrupted. The Air Commander reclined in a nearby chair, twirling a stylus in his hands as he eyed the display screen with distaste.

"What is the point of all this, if you won't let me finish a single file?" Thundercracker pierced the red Seeker with an annoyed look.

"Stormgale. I'll bet he is as generic as his name," Starscream explained haughtily. "Need I remind you, we are the Command Trine of the Decepticon Air Force. Not just anyone will do. We require something special."

"Primus. Just go through the files yourself and comm me when you find someone _worthy_." Thundercracker's systems gave a threatening rumble, reaching the limits of his considerable patience.

At the sound, Starscream perked up, his optics brightening.

"Yes… that's it. Something _special_," he whispered, a self-satisfied smirk adorning his features. "Thundercracker, run a filter search for all untrined Seekers with Sigma abilities."

Thundercracker gave a tired sigh as he input the required parameters. It was typical of Starscream to want to fill his trine with "special" Seekers; his commander was a glutton for power.

"Designation: Razorwing. He can…"

"No."

"What now?"

"He trained under Acidrain. No doubt he'll come with some atrocious bad habits."

"Wasn't he Slipstream's old commanding officer?"

"My point, exactly."

Thundercracker could not help but chuckle. Starscream held at least a mild distaste for almost every mech online, but his hatred of their former trinemate was comic in its intensity. Thundercracker was one of the few he tolerated, a seeming impossibility proven by the fact that he received a mere sour look for laughing at his commander, rather than a null ray to the chest.

"I'm just going to read off the list. Stop me if you hear anything: Acidstorm, Afterburn, Blackcloud, Cloudstrike, Darkmoon, Dirge, Rainstorm, Shadowblight, Skydancer, Skywarp, Windchaser…"

"What was that last one?"

"Windchaser?"

"No, the previous one."

"Skywarp?" Thundercracker peered at the name. "What kind of name is _Skywarp_?"

"It certainly isn't generic," Starscream smirked. "Bring him here."

* * *

Two megacycles later, a twitching ebony Seeker stood at attention.

"Sir, you wanted to see me… sir?" The unfortunate mech floundered, pinned under the weight of the Air Commander's appraisal.

Thundercracker watched the proceedings unnoticed from a nearby corner, hiding his amused expression as Starscream made a show of picking up a datapad from the nearby table, making sure that the new mech got a good look at the sleek frame that made him the fastest Seeker online. Possibly even more amusing was the reaction of the black Seeker: nothing. He just stood there, frozen, as if Starscream had shot him with his null-ray in greeting.

"Skywarp," Starscream read from the datapad, "it says here that you can teleport."

"Um," was all the Seeker called 'Skywarp' managed.

Starscream, smirk growing wider, sauntered up to the other flyer, who was making a pitiful attempt at hiding the quivering in his wings.

"How far?" The red Seeker leaned into the mech, who became even more flustered at the invasion of his personal space.

"Um." To his credit, the other collected himself quicker than most. "2.5 hics, if conditions are fair."

"Very good." Starscream moved away, satisfied with what he saw for now. "At ease."

Lulled into a false sense of security, the ebony flier unwound like a tense coil. No longer puffed up at attention, the mech looked abnormally slight – even for a Seeker.

"As you undoubtedly know, Slipstream was terminated earlier this orn," Starscream spoke to the mech, not bothering to hide his pleasure at his hated trinemate's demise.

Thundercracker quietly observed the other Seeker from his dark corner. His thrusters were woefully small and the angle of the junction where his wing struts met his back was off. He zoomed in his vision, focusing on the juncture; there seemed to be scarring. Perhaps the deformity was due to an old injury. Fine silver lines ran out from his armor seams, stirring up memories of a time Thundercracker himself possessed such marks. It had been a long, long time ago.

In a fit of rare fury, he threw open the private comm channel he shared with his trineleader. The black Seeker continued to stare at Starscream as if he expected the Air Commander to suddenly hurl a cluster bomb in his direction, completely oblivious to the silent conversation occurring over his head.

"_At any point in your scheming over Skywarp's file, did you happen to check his age?"_

The red Seeker threw a discrete glance at his trinemate, before returning to address their new addition.

"_No."_ He openly appraised the other flyer, who squirmed under the scrutiny. _"He does look a little young, but what does it matter if he can fly?"_

_"He is a youngling, a liability," _Thundercracker seethed. _"Do you see his wing juncture? Growth seams!"_

"_Good, he will be a blank slate. Free of bad habits and sloppy training." _

"_He will not last a day!"_

"_If he doesn't, then he is a weakling and doesn't deserve to function." _Starscream answered matter-of-fact. _"He is the perfect addition to our trine, and I will not let your misguided morals get in the way."_

"_You are unbelievable." _Starscream smirked, uncaring and cruel; a true Decepticon. Leave it to him to take that as a compliment. _"What is his combat experience?" _

Starscream paused to check his datapad.

"_As I said, Thundercracker, he is a blank slate. According to the database, he is former CADF, stationed in neutral territory. No combat experience has been recorded."_

"_None?" _Thundercracker's voice rose in disbelief over the channel.

"_Yes, none." _A wisp of irritation crossed his commander's face, anticipating trouble.

Thundecracker knew it would be pointless to argue. Starscream had his processor set on this one, and there was nothing he could do to change the stubborn mech's mind. He just hoped the youngling's inevitable death would be quick and painless. Such a shame, there were so few left.

Thundercracker watched the youngling, expression dark as he brooded on the implications of having such an inexperienced Seeker in his trine. He eyed the other's underdeveloped wing struts with distaste. He would surely fly on an inconsistent vector. What good was an unusual Sigma ability if one was not yet capable of flying in a straight line? No doubt Starscream would reconsider his decision when close formation flying became a hazard. That is, if the youngling survived long enough to be dismissed back to his post in Vos.

Starscream carried on with his proposal unhindered by his wingmate's doubts, though the black Seeker was no longer paying attention. Thundercracker suddenly found himself the subject of intense scrutiny as the youngling finally noticed his presence. The mech openly examined him, all previous shyness gone. Annoyed, he met the other's stare.

In those optics, he saw none of the malice he saw in his comrades, none of the insane energon lust. He saw neither jaded callousness, nor the weighty exhaustion of a drawn-out war. Instead, he saw youthful ardor, a curiosity and zest for life that he had not felt in vorns. And something he never expected to see in the eyes of a soldier: _innocence_.

Thundercracker, calm and collected, calculating and in control, was unhinged. Undone by crimson mirrors that reflected on a past he'd rather forget.

Mercifully, he was soon torn from his staring match by the clearing of Starscream's vocalizer.

"W-What?" the other Seeker asked, appearing similarly unmoored.

"Do you accept?" Starscream repeated, amused.

The youngling gave him a blank look, to which Starscream replied with an exasperated blast of his vents, "Look, I don't have to explain my reasoning to an insignificant underling like you. But if you must know, we only have a limited range of low ranking Seekers to choose from. All ranking Seekers, with the exception of Thundercracker and myself, are currently members of full trines. Your special ability sets you apart from the mediocrity. Hopefully it will help you to keep up with us, as our new right wing. So, do you accept?"

"WHAT?" Skywarp exclaimed, shocked at his fortune.

Starscream quirked an optic ridge. "Am I going to have to repeat the question _again_?"

"N-no. I mean, yes. Yes, I accept."

"Finally, a semi-coherent response! Very well then, from now on you will be staying in Kaon. I have a meeting with Megatron," he turned to the cruel, angular visage of the Decepticon commander that had just appeared on the central monitor. "Thundercracker will show you to your quarters. Dismissed."

Thundercracker gave his commander a quick glance that spoke volumes about how he felt being relegated to the role of sparkling sitter before setting off down the corridor at a brisk clip.

He could hear the hesitant tapping of the other's thrusters behind him, following at a safe distance. Already testy, his mood began to sour further when he felt that hated prickle on the back of his wings that told him he was being watched.

What was so fragging fascinating about him? He was a military Seeker, just like his unwanted trinemate behind him. Granted, with much more experience and an actual chance of survival come the next battle. Seriously, what was Starscream thinking? Power-hungry, aft-headed glitch...

The youngling startled at the angry growl that emanated from his thrusters, lagging further behind. At this rate, they might make it to the other Seeker's quarters by evening mess.

He gave an annoyed jerk of his helm in the direction of the living quarters, hoping the youngling would take the hint. He wasn't one for small talk, particularly with someone straight off the assembly line like his companion. Any such discussion would be shallow, lacking any of the practical intelligence that came with experience. Likely, the youngling was still mulling over the Air Commander's theatrics, if the troubled look on his face was any indication.

Thundercracker discreetly observed the black Seeker, now just behind him. He could feel the air disturbances caused by the other's movement on the backs of his wings. Glancing back, he could see the other's growth seams. The thin silver lines stood out in startling contrast to the deep ebony of his armor now that they were in the bright light of the corridor.

With another angry glare, Thundercracker picked up his pace. The pair of thrusters trailing behind him followed suit in a sharp staccato that reverberated off the stark corridor walls to quiver in his very spark. He stopped abruptly to glance down the hallway, expecting to see a pair of charcoal-striped wings just ahead of him, mentally berating himself when – of course – they were not there.

The haunting tapping mercifully ceased as the youngling came to a halt beside him, curious optics examining his face, darkened with painful memories. He met the youthful optics for a nanoclick, fully intending to tell the nosy bot off, but found himself caught up in an innocent curiosity that had him spilling a brief, rare glimpse into his thoughts

"This is a war, mechs will die."They were familiar words, though he had never spoken them. He watched the tension drain from the younger mech as the stifling silence was broken. Unwittingly, he relaxed in turn.

"What?" The youngling lost his faraway look, twin points of red coming into focus on Thundercracker's carefully blanked face.

"I saw you staring, obviously," he elaborated. "It wasn't too difficult to figure out what you were thinking."

Slipstream had reacted the same way when he met the Air Commander, and he had been much older. Starscream was, by his very nature, a lot to process for any mech, and his new trinemate seemed a little on the slow side. He was no doubt trying to fit the Air Commander into whatever optimistic, cookie-cutter idea his naïve processor had dreamed up about the 'great Air Commander Starscream.' Well, Thundercracker wouldn't be the one to break it to him, but he'd learn soon enough... square peg, round hole. Starscream was Starscream.

"You younglings are all the same. A few more vorns of this war and you'll become as callous as the rest of us. You'll have to, if you want to survive." Skywarp could not be allowed to trust mechs like Starscream. He wouldn't last a day. Thundercracker wasn't sure why he cared, but he found himself wanting the youngling to survive. This war had taken enough…

"If you take every deactivation to spark, your grief will consume you."

"So, you don't miss Slipstream?"

That was what was bothering him? The silly youngling thought he was upset by the deactivation of his aft of a trinemate? He had been sure it had been Starscream's antics. He couldn't help but chuckle, which caused the youngling to frown unhappily as he registered how naïve he had sounded.

"Slipstream? No. To be blunt, Slipstream was an incompetent aft. It is unfortunate that he was terminated." He couldn't help but snort a little, pausing briefly to frown at the youngling's shocked look. "But really, it's better for the trine. Slipstream schemed his way to the top. That slagger had connections, I'll give him that, but he was a poor excuse for a Seeker."

Seekers could forgive arrogance, a trait they all shared. Sour personalities, megalomania... even mild cases of insanity. All of that could be overlooked, but ineptitude in flight was unforgivable. Thundercracker hoped that the youngling possessed enough of the basic Seeker programming to understand his reasoning. He was reassured when the other gave a small smile, appearing perfectly at ease in a matter of nanoclicks.

"I always felt exposed on my right in trine formation. Maybe that will change." He gave Skywarp a critical look. Doubtful.

He was haunted by many ghosts, but Slipstream's deactivation... had he really once been this naive?

Yes, he had.

How did Thunderstrike ever put up with his nonsense? Unbidden, a small smile brightened his face.

"Skywarp, right? I saw your file." And the 1024 other files Starscream forced him to look over.

"Yeah, that's my designation."

"Well, I have drills to oversee, comm me if you need anything vital. Anything less and I will turn you into spare parts."

He hesitated a moment before sending Skywarp his private comm frequency. He regretted his decision almost immediately as he felt Skywarp open the channel. He should not allow the youngling this close. Oh well, he wouldn't live very long anyway.

That thought was not as reassuring at Thundercracker would have liked.

"Okay, TC. I'll see you at maneuver practice at 0630," Skywarp said cheerily.

"Do not call me TC," Thundercracker's spark froze as he was addressed informally for the first time in thousands of vorns. He retreated down the corridor, icy demeanor firmly back in place.

* * *

"You're off by three degrees." Thundercracker observed. Skywarp transformed to regard the older Seeker.

Thundercracker had been following him in root mode, all sensors focused on the youngling's vector. As he had predicted, the seams along Skywarp's wing joints, his growth plates, had caused him problems with staying on a consistent vector. Skywarp would intend to fly in one direction, but his wings would go in another.

The deviation was minute; if he were flying with anyone but the command trine, no doubt it would have gone unnoticed. But Starscream had noticed, which was why Thundercracker was outside, using his off-duty time to coach his young wingmate.

His wingleader had said that Skywarp would learn to compensate, or be slagged. Thundercracker would have liked to have just retired to his quarters with a good datapad, but his spark gave an unwelcome jolt every time he considered the likely outcome of Skywarp's 'trial by fire.'

"TC, I mean Thundercracker, I am adjusting my vector by .05 degrees every nanoclick." Skywarp's frustration was bleeding through the comm. "According to my flight computer, that should be enough."

"You were three degrees off." Thundercracker sighed at the youngling's put-out look. "Come here."

"Turn around." Skywarp did as told, which gave Thundercracker a chance to inspect the other's wing joints. His growth plates had expanded 20%, so he had reached 80% of his growth potential. It would be some time yet until his frame would expand fully and a medic could weld and reinforce the seams.

"How old are you?" It was the first time he had asked his trinemate directly, preferring not to know. Skywarp's easy grin fell into an uncomfortable frown.

"Old enough to serve," he said simply, more serious than Thundercracker had ever seen him. "I came off the lines ready to serve."

"In the CADF." Thundercracker knew his trinemate's history. "You must be young. They only started creating purpose-built military fliers after the riots started."

"My frame might've been built for CADF, but my spark wasn't. I don't have to be loyal to them." Skywarp looked angry; Thundercracker had never seen this side of the youngling before. "I serve myself! Not the stupid Autobots!"

It didn't escape the older mech that Skywarp avoided his question, but that seemed of little importance now.

He had never considered the youngling's reasons for joining the Decepticons; his trinemate's thoughts appeared so simplistic, he doubted it could have been more than the other's military coding driving him to fight.

Yet, here was Skywarp, the warped metal of his Decepticon brands standing slightly raised against his wings, a look on his faceplate that just dared Thundercracker to question his place in the faction.

Thundercracker's wings ached with sense memory; he could see a blue youngling, brought to his knees by the pain of Megatron's mark, determination waging a war against despair within his processor.

_You'll see the end of this war. Someday, you'll be free. _

_I serve myself!_

Skywarp had as much right as he did to be here, fighting for his right to an identity, a purpose greater than that of an Autobot pawn.

"I thought you were just here for the trigger time."

"That too." Skywarp's grin was back in place as he flipped back into his tetrajet form. "Okay, so I'll try an extra 0.07 degree compensation. I just realized I didn't account for the wind." His voice sounded sheepish over the comm.

"Very good." Thundercracker was smiling slightly as he transformed. There was hope for Skywarp yet. "Stay on my wing." He flew in front of the other jet, to Starscream's customary position.

"What? Let me try this out first!" Skywarp sounded panicky. "What if I hit you?"

"You won't." Thundercracker said simply. "Oh, and no warping out on me again. You are going to run this drill to the finish."

"You're no fun, TC-Thundercracker." Skywarp pouted, following his trinemate across the sky, a sunset colored by pollution – bright reds, oranges and purples – a hazy shroud over the once clear skies of their war ravaged home.

* * *

Thundercracker emerged from recharge, the haze of purple still surrounding him, a lingering reminder of all he had lost. He onlined all of his systems at once, and mercifully, the violet was gone. He lay still a moment, expecting to hear the hum of a base preparing to mobilize, but it was quiet.

He checked his chronometer. It was far earlier than he had expected; Starscream would not be databursting the details of their mission for at least another megacycle. Thundercracker continued to lay in his berth, fully online and not quite sure what to do with himself.

He contemplated the wide metal expanse, which suddenly felt much wider than necessary. He stretched out, wings and arms askew as he tried to fill the gaping void he only just realized was there. He paused as his hands brushed heated metal. The empty side of the berth was warm. _Very_ warm.

He glared at his offline recharge computer, its terminal connections hanging forgotten on the wall. Without its data filtering capabilities, he was prone to troublesome memory file dumps. It was not such an issue now that he had his own quarters, and nobody else was present to witness his tossing and turning, but they often left him onlining in such a horrible mood.

He felt the ping of a data package against his firewalls, quickly adjusting them to allow for a download as he identified the sender as Starscream.

"Good orn," Starscream's voice sounded oddly pleased across the comm. His strategy meeting with Megatron must have gone well. "Our target is nuclear. My databurst contains the coordinates and schematics for the plant."

"Acknowledged."

"Good. We will depart in four breems." Starcream cut the connection.

Thundercracker rose, preparing to report to the conning tower. On his way to the lift, he opened the file, studying the layout of the plant. It was a standard layout for a human nuclear facility, nothing out of the ordinary. He gave a pleased hum as he noted that it was surrounded by open desert. It would be difficult for the Autobots to defend such an open target; without any cover, they would be extremely vulnerable to aerial attacks.

The lift doors opened, the bright morning sun forcing him to reset his visual field. Straining his optics, he could make out his trineleader in the distance. Starscream seemed to be back in favor with Megatron; they were deep in discussion, voices only slightly raised, and neither was wielding a charged weapon. The familiar outline of a black Seeker, perched on the edge of the platform, cut through the blinding white.

"Hey TC," his trinemate's voice was animated with the prospect of battle. "Ready to kick some Auto-aft?"

"Good orn, 'Warp." He frowned slightly, shading his optics with his servo. "I'm ready to raid a power plant, whether the Autobots show up or not."

"What's with the attitude, morning spark? You know they're gonna show!" Skywarp sounded amused. "It's about time too. I still owe Skydive for that cheap shot."

His frown deepened as he remembered his trinemate laid out in the medbay; it wasn't often that an Autobot managed to disable Skywarp.

_So do I_, he thought darkly.


	7. In a Violet Flash

Author's note: Space Oddity belongs to David Bowie. Enjoy, and please pardon my pseudoscience XD

A big thank you to DemonSurfer, who took the time to beta this chapter :)

**Chapter 4: In a Violet Flash**

A deep rumble issued from the ominous rise of dark clouds overhead. The bright, clear morning had rapidly deteriorated into no-fly conditions. 'No-fly' for the United States Air Force, as their frequencies helpfully supplied, but not for the Decepticon Elite. Despite his frame being battered by torrential rain, Skwarp's mood was as cheerful as a clear summer day as he looked forward to the impending battle.

"Ground control to Major Tom," he sang across the trine comm, finishing his opening line with an ill-disguised snicker as Starscream wavered a bit in flight. "Take your protein pills and put your helmet on."

He raised the volume on his vocalizer. "Ground control to Major Tom. Commencing countdown, engines on. Check ignition and may Primus' love be with yooooou." A quiet crackle met his audios as Starscream opened the line on his end, poised to strike. It wouldn't be much longer now. "Ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two... one... lift..."

"Skywarp!" The reprimand came much later than expected; Starscream was truly in an exceptional mood. "The trine comm is for tactics, not deactivation trills."

"Everyone's a critic," Skywarp laughed. "Though you're one to talk, _Screamer_."

Starscream huffed over the comm, leaving the line open to snap and crackle angrily in the inclement weather.

"So, you think ol' Megs will let some of the energon go towards a victory celebration?" There was a question in Skywarp's vocalizer, but it was in regards to energon allocation; Shockwave had requested a rather large amount of energon only cycles ago. The thought that the Autobots would thwart their attack never entered his processor. Never mind their dwindling energon reserves, or the fact that it had been Earth months since a successful raid.

"Shockwave _only_ requested 400 cubes." Starscream's sarcasm was as thick as beryllium sludge. "We'll be lucky if we can function until the next cycle. Megatron is a fool. If I were leader, I'd tell that cyclops to shove his bloated calculations up his exhaust pipe. Any surplus energon we seize is needed here, on the battlefront. Megatron is clearly in need of a defrag if he really believes..."

Skywarp tuned his trineleader out, turning his thoughts to the battle ahead. Things had become more interesting since the Aerialbots had entered the equation; as inferior as they were, it was nice to engage an enemy with wings. He waggled in anticipation. Starscream, most likely sharing his impatience, abandoned his tirade in favor of a sudden burst of speed.

Skywarp felt the excited press of molecules against his nosecone as he fired his afterburners, breaking the sound barrier with a thunderous boom. Two familiar waves of high pressure passed over him, one from his trineleader and one from his immediate left.

"Hey, TC?" Skywarp addressed his silent trinemate, his cobalt frame flying next to theirs, as graceful and unobtrusive as a shadow.

"Hm?" Thundercracker acknowledged.

"Why the rush, anyway?" Skywarp asked, not out of any real interest, but rather a desire to break Thundercracker out of his brooding. "Not that I don't want to get to the fight sooner, but wouldn't the Autobots have heard that boom?"

"Did you even bother to read Starscream's databurst?" It wasn't really a question, though Skywarp wondered why Thundercracker still went through the motions of asking.

"I glanced over it." Sort of.

"This time was chosen for the raid specifically because it coincided with the passing of what the humans call a 'front.'" Skywarp loved when Thundercracker adopted his 'lecturing tone." To be honest Skywarp wasn't even listening to what the other was saying—something about low pressure and how it caused foul weather—and just let the deep, placid tones roll over him. "...So, these are the perfect conditions to carry out a raid. Our low flight, combined with the thunder, will mask our activities from Autobot audios as well as radar. At the same time, it will minimize human interference, as their pathetic technology can't cope with a little rain." As if to punctuate his statement, a cloud lit up right next to them before a deafening crack split the air, leaving Skywarp's audios ringing.

"Slag," Skywarp groused, unpleasantly shaken from his reverie. "This weather is like crossing you on a bad day."

Thundercracker laughed. They both knew the naturally occurring thunder was utterly tame compared to his own sonics. They also both knew he had never hit his trinemates with a sonic attack. Naturally, many of the Autobots hadn't been so lucky; Skywarp, his helm still ringing, wondered—not for the first time—what it felt like to have Thundercracker as an enemy.

They reached their target in what seemed like kliks, plenty of time to scout the area before the rest of the Decepticon troops arrived. As expected, their target, a lone nuclear plant surrounded by endless miles of arid terrain, was Autobot free.

Slowing to a subsonic crawl, Starscream led them into a low altitude surveillance pattern within visual distance of the plant. The rain had eased into gentle virga over the desert.

The delicate rainfall reflected a prism of colors before evaporating into the surrounding air. It was almost enough to make Skywarp reconsider the ugliness of the Earth's sky. That is, until a downdraft of rain-cooled air fell back towards Earth, trying valiantly to take his frame with it.

"How do the humans stand this wretched planet?" Starscream growled, fighting the frequent downward currents.

Tiny droplets stung the delicate sensors in the leading edges of Skywarp's wings before flowing over the tops. He flicked his ailerons at the annoying tickle.

"All this sand is messing with my sensors. I am getting multiple readings for Autobot activity." Starscream continued. "Thundercracker, are you picking up anything?"

"Negative. Just interference from the terrain."

"Acknowledged. Keep your visual sensors trained on the ground. We don't want to be caught with our flaps down."

Skywarp waggled his wings in an antsy manner; surveillance flight was many things—exciting was not one of them.

"This is Major Tom to ground control, I'm stepping through the door. And I'm floating in a most peculiar way." He sang, trying not to laugh over the comm as Starscream's frame stiffened yet again. "And the stars look very different todaaaaay!"

"Here am I floatin' 'round my tin can far above the world. Planet Earth is blue and there is nothing I can do."

"What is that?" Thundercracker asked unexpectedly, bringing an abrupt end to his song.

"Thank Primus!" Starscream exclaimed.

"Slag off, Screamer. It's a song about a human... what do they call them again?"

"Astronauts," Starscream supplied haughtily. "Cosmonauts as well. If you spent more time filling your processors with _useful_ information about the humans, you'd know that."

"You're such a geek," Skywarp snickered. "So it is a song about an astronaut. Pretty catchy, huh?"

"It just seems a bit depressing for your tastes," Thundercracker remarked.

"Depressing?" Sometimes Skywarp just could not understand his trinemate. "How is a song about a squishy astronaut depressing?"

Before Thundercracker could answer, laser fire pierced the empty space between them. Starscream dove sharply to the left, his trine tearing after him, just seconds before the space they would have occupied on their previous trajectory lit up with missile fire.

The ground below them wavered and a large group of Autobots stood where there was once nothing but open desert.

"Starscream to Megatron," Starscream hailed over his comm as they engaged their afterburners and sped away from the plant, out into the open desert. "We have been ambushed. The Autobot Hound was able to slip an entire team of Autobots past our perimeter using holograms. Should we engage?"

"Fool," Megatron growled over the comm. "Only you could manage such a feat of incompetence. Keep them busy, reinforcements will arrive within the breem."

"Acknowledged, Mighty Megatron," Starscream sneered, cutting the connection before leading them in a wide arc to speed toward the plant. Their engines roared as they dove low over the Autobots troops, peppering the ground with laser fire. Skywarp laughed as the enemy scattered, joined by Starscream's cackle as he veered to avoid a close shot made by Prime.

"They are as predictable as a two-bit training simulation!"

"Quite. Not feeling so clever now are you, Autobot scum?" Starscream's voice oozed vicious satisfaction. Lightening split the sky in two like a great plasma blade, heralding a deafening crack that shook Skywarp right down to his spark. His trineleader chuckled, his dark amusement blending with the echoing rumble. "Thundercracker!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Put this disgusting planet to shame."

Thundercracker split from the trine, as Starscream and Skywarp flew out over the desert. Skywarp felt a strong, throbbing pulse brush the edge of his elevators and picked up speed.

They banked back towards the battlefield just in time to see Autobots flying haphazardly into the air. Thundercracker emerged from the chaos, shrieking into the sky in a steep climb. Moments later, he joined them for another strafing run.

"That was awesome, TC!" Skywarp crowed. "At this rate, we won't need reinforcements or that laser thing."

"You mean the Particle Disruption Ray." Starscream corrected.

"Geek."

"And we will be using it, since Megatron had me slaving for solar cycles over the plans. If Hook and his incompetent bunch of aftheads were able to follow my schematics—unlikely—you'll be in for quite a show."

As if heralded, the large weapon appeared over the horizon, along with the rest of the Decepticon reinforcements. The Autobots, still reorganizing in the aftermath of Thundercracker's attack, were slow to spot the approaching army. It was the yellow scout that first noticed their growing numbers, swiftly alerting their Prime.

By the time the Autobots started to return fire, the Decepticons had firmly established themselves on the crest of an imposing dune. After ordering his trine to continue strafing the Autobots, Starscream went to perch by Megatron's side under the pretense of receiving orders too sensitive for comm transmission. From his satisfied smirk, it was more likely that he was preparing to gloat.

"They do make a rather beautiful, sadistic pair." Skywarp remarked. "Guess it's just you and me, TC."

"Skywarp... don't let your overactive processor distract you from the battle. For the last time, there is nothing there to see."

"You're no fun," Skywarp pouted as they streaked across the field. He gave a delighted cackle as he landed a shot on that horrible yellow twin. That'd show him not to mar his lovely wings.

"This is not a _game_, Skywarp!" Thundercraker snapped. "Decepticons do not form attachments. It is not in our core programming. Now get your head back into the battle before it gets shot off!"

"Okay, TC." He said, hurt more than he would admit to himself.

Everything was going smoothly. The Autobots were on the defensive, refusing to retreat until all the plant workers were evacuated, but falling back nonetheless. The annoying human military was grounded because of the weather, and the cassettes had successfully slipped into the reactor chambers and were siphoning energon right under the Autobots' olfactory sensors. It was only a matter of time before the Autobots called in reinforcements.

A small grouping of bogeys appeared on his radar to the east; the Aerialbots had arrived.

"Starscream to Thundercracker," came an irritated voice across the comm. "The Particle Disruption Ray requires some last minute calibration—and those incompetent morons call themselves engineers, ha!—so you are on your own. I take it you can handle the sparkings by yourselves?"

"Of course." Thundercracker replied, while setting a course to intercept the enemy fliers before they reached the battlefield. One lone jet split from the others, careening towards them at top speed. The impulsive idiot, right on schedule. "Skywarp, peel off and fall back. I doubt he is paying attention to his radar. We may be able to take Superion out of the equation early."

"Sounds like a plan, TC." He initialized his warp drive as he entered a steep climb, disappearing into the clouds. Thundercracker maintained his heading, throttling back to a leisurely speed to draw Impulsive further away from the others. The lone Aerialbot appeared on the horizon, speeding up ever so slightly when he saw that Thundercracker was alone.

Impulsive fired a missile, which went wide, whizzing through the open air four meters from Thundercracker's left wing. He then decided to take the more direct approach, firing his afterburners and rocketing towards the blue Seeker's nosecone. Skywarp had about half a nanoklik to wonder if the Autobot shared his flight programming with Ramjet before Thundercracker deflected his elevators and dove under the Autobot.

Missing his target and moving too quickly to break into a hard turn, Impulsive was forced into a wide arc. Skywarp, seeing his chance, warped in behind the other jet and fired a missile. The right side of Impulsive's fuselage lit up like a inferno as he fell from the sky.

Before he could crash into the dunes below, Skydive swooped in to save his sorry aft. Skywarp prepared to engage the only competent Aerialbot, but was sorely disappointed when the other landed with his injured teammate and began to make rudimentary repairs. Sentimental fool.

"Nice shot, 'Warp," Thundercracker commed. "Looks like we won't be seeing Superion today."

"It gets better. I have an open shot at Skydive." The Autobot looked up from his repairs as he became aware of Skywarp's missile lock.

"Do not engage." Thundercracker ordered sharply. "He will be dealt with later. Fall back, I have company."

"What? He's wide open!" Skywarp exclaimed.

"Skywarp, fall back. That's an order."

Skywarp fumed. Thundercracker was too soft. Sure it was a dirty shot, but Decepticons were opportunists; he could take the only Aerialbot that actually posed a threat out of the fight with ease. With a frustrated blast from his vents, he went to assist his trinemate. There was little he could do now that Thundercracker had pulled rank.

Skywarp arrived to find his wingmate being swarmed by the rest of the Aerialbots. He was horribly outnumbered and sported painful looking laser burns on his wings. Skywarp dove into the fray, landing a shot on the easiest target, the Concorde.

The Aerialbot leader was forced to make an emergency landing, one of his wide delta wing sporting a gaping hole. The Autobots were morons and their choice of alt-modes proved it. Welcome to Seeker 101: large-aft _transport vehicles_ do not fare well in dogfights.

Thundercracker, who was currently being pursued by the weakling loudmouth and the airhead, entered a steep vertical climb. The weaker jets, unable to follow, continued their course. Skywarp warped back into position on Thundercracker's wing. Together, they completed the vertical loop above the enemy jets and dove back down. They dropped in behind the Aerialbots and were prepared to open fire when their own internal alarms started to blare.

A pair of missiles were locked on and headed their way. They had been careless, neglectful of the Autobot Twins' formidable surface-to-air arsenal. There was no time to warp out of the way.

_'Oh Primus, this is going to hurt,'_ Skywarp thought.

The space around them wavered like runway tarmac on a hot summer day, before the missiles below them burst into brilliant white light and disappeared.

"What just happened?" Skywarp ran a full scan of his frame; he was in peak operating condition. Thundercracker still flew ahead of him, without even a scratch on his paint.

"I don't know..."

"Beautiful isn't it?" Starscream asked, appearing right over them, taking his place ahead of Thundercracker. "Utter annihilation at the molecular level."

"You mean the missile?"

"Of course the missile, idiot! You are still functional aren't you?" Starscream was clearly pleased with his work, as his insults lacked their usual bite. "The ray is designed to target the weakest bonds between the atoms of a target. The slight distortion you probably noticed was the scanning system. It then fires a concentrated beam of energy,which breaks those weak bonds. The energy released from the bonds, combined with the residual energy from the ray, provides the energy needed to break the stronger bonds present in the target. This process continues until even the strongest bonds have been reduced to nothing but free energy, which is released in the form of light—the bright flash you just witnessed. Utter devastation with minimal initial energon investment!"

"Geek."

"Thanks, Starscream."

"Don't get any ideas, Thundercracker. The missile was a perfect opportunity to fire a test shot. The chemical compounds that composed its core were highly unstable, and thus easy for the ray to tear apart. I certainly didn't do it to save your sorry afts."

"Whatever helps you recharge."

Loudmouth and Airhead had fallen back after the missile vanished—_vanished!_—trying to assess the situation and were currently outside of visual range, on the very edge of Skywarp's radar.

"Trine formation." Starscream ordered. Skywarp sped up and fell into place on Starscream's right. "It is time to show Megatron that his air supremacy will never be threatened."

Starscream fired his afterburners, the shriek of his intakes overpowering the howling wind. Skywarp, his frame battered by rain, took a nanoklik to bask in the warm pulse of powerful engines before following his trineleader into a steep climb, deep into the ominous clouds above.

"This sucks slag," Skywarp whined, as he was caught in an updraft. He fought against the strong skyward pull of the turbulent wind before overcorrecting clumsily, flying straight into Starscream. His trineleader threw him off with an offended shriek.

"Skywarp, quit flying like a _human_ jet and pay attention to your sensors!"

He quickly activated his full array of sensors, silently cursing the substantial energy draw of the specialized ones used to monitor alien atmospheric conditions. At this rate, he could count on having energy for only one or two short-distance warps.

"Slag off, Screamer." Skywarp spat, as he registered a large pocket of convection ahead. Starscream led them in a large banking turn around the updraft, giving an arrogant flick of his aileron as they leveled out.

"Or can you not function without your Sigma ability?" Starscream sneered. "All those vorns I wasted, teaching you to fly straight and level and you can't even..."

"You didn't teach..."

"There." Thundercracker interrupted, pinging a set of coordinates. Sure enough, two Autobot signals originated three thousand mechanometers below, somewhere through the deep, impenetrable gray of the storm center.

Starscream dove sharply into the darkness, pursuing the signal like a mech compelled, leaving his trinemates to question his sanity—not for the first time—before plummeting after him.

Hail battered Skywarp's frame, no doubt leaving unsightly pits in his base coat. They dove until the stress on his frame was nearly unbearable, the strong drafts and negative g-forces threatening to tear him apart. Just when he was about to give up the pursuit, they broke cloud cover right above the loudmouth Harrier and air-headed F-4.

Airhead and Loudmouth, preoccupied with fighting the strong downdrafts below the virga, did not notice their presence. Pathetic, but such ineptitude was to be expected of fliers built out of Earth technology. Starscream laughed, firing two missiles; both impacted in a fiery explosion, the enemy jets twisting together toward the Earth, trailing smoke and flames.

"Too easy." Starscream scoffed as he banked west, leading them back towards the battle.

"Decepticons, retreat!" Megatron's voice roared suddenly over the commlink, his frustration and rage nearly palpable.

"Slag it all," swore Starscream. "We leave the dirt-kissers to cover their own afts for one breem and they manage to frag it up."

They arrived a klik later to find that the Autobots had taken control of the plant. Most of the able-bodied Decepticons had already taken flight towards the Nemesis, many bearing the weight of a damaged comrade between them. Only Megatron himself remained on the ground, stubbornly grappling with the Prime. The wind howled across the tops of the dunes, obscuring them in a cloud of sand.

Two of the Autobot scientists, the microscope and the finned pyromaniac, had taken possession of the Particle Disruption Ray and were trying to safely disable the weapon as the two black and white Autobot officers stood guard. Skydive circled low over the group, doubtless keeping his sensors tuned for the Decepticon Command Trine.

"I am not letting that weapon fall into enemy... Thundercracker, what the frag are you doing?" Starscream yelled, as Thundercracker—calm, level-headed Thundercracker—fired his afterburners and streaked across the battlefield at top speed, on a collision course with Skydive.

Skywarp, stunned and confused, mechanically followed Starscream as he sped after the errant blue Seeker. His trineleader did not order Thundercracker back into formation, simply following with a mutter that sounded vaguely like "interesting."

Thundercracker transformed a mere mechanometer before his nosecone impacted Skydive's fuselage. The other flier had only managed a half transformation before Thundercracker grabbed him by the chassis, digging his fingers into the gaping transformation seam along his wing root.

The screech of rending metal blended with the pained shriek of the F-16 as Thundercracker tore off the thin panel covering his wing, burying his hands in wires and vital fluid lines. Fistfuls of torn wiring and electric pink energon rained down on the horrified Autobots below as the Seeker ripped away at Skydive's internals until his support struts were laid bare.

Thundercracker wrapped his hand around the largest strut, using it as leverage to deliver a series of brutal kicks to the other's side. His free hand closed around one of the jet's bright red air inlets, drawing the struggling Autobot in close.

With a snarl, he brought one of his thruster heels up to grind against the other's abdominal plating, letting his exhaust burn the paint from the enemy jet's frame until nothing remained but angry char marks against bright silver metal. Letting go of the whimpering flier, he fired his afterburners to deliver a whirlwind kick to the Aerialbot's chassis.

The crushing blow knocked Skydive back some distance, allowing him a precious nanoklik to complete his transformation sequence. His wings had just flipped onto his back, transformation seams safely flush against one another, when the livid blue Seeker dove at him again, intent on ripping out the vital energon lines in his neck.

Thundercracker clawed away at the Aerialbot's thin neck armor, narrowly missing the exposed lines as the other desperately blocked his hands; it was only a matter of time before the inexperienced flyer misjudged Thundercracker's movements.

Skywarp had rarely seen the elder Seeker so intent on deactivating another mech; gone was the professional soldier, who carried out his duties with impersonal efficiency.

"TC?" Skywarp questioned over their private comm line. Megatron would be pleased with the quiet Seeker's new-found brutality—and thus, so should he—but he could not help the unsure tone that bled through the comm.

Thundercracker's optics darted to his trinemate's; they were bright and unfocused. Wild. It was both the most erotic and the most horrifying thing Skywarp had ever seen. He felt his spark heat uncomfortably under his cockpit, before lucidity returned to the other's gaze. Thundercracker paused for a moment, lifting an arm to watch the lazy drip of energon down his hands.

In his moment of inattention, the Autobot twins sprung their trap. The red twin, boosters ignited, launched himself at Thundercracker, knocking the Aerialbot from his grip a nanoklik before the yellow twin launched a rocket-propelled energon net from behind. Starscream, who had been hovering close to the scene, attempted to fire a cluster bomb at the yellow menace. It went wide, and he was quickly taken out of the fight by the little gray Autobot sniper.

Skywarp, unable to reach his trinemate in time, dove for the falling Skydive. He beat the red twin to the injured mech, drawing him to his cockpit as he hovered just out of reach of the Autobots.

Thundercracker shrieked in pain as the shimmering net closed around him. The tendrils of energy—delicate, beautiful—cut into his plating like a blade. He struggled to free himself, unaware that his struggle was slowly severing the tip of his left wing from the root.

Skywarp's spark throbbed as he fought against his impulse to toss his captive into the air and dive to his trinemate's side; he could do nothing for Thundercracker now. He had to keep a firm hold on their only bargaining chip.

The Autobots ignored the downed Seeker's struggles. Skywarp could feel the weight of each pair of cold blue optics that was now focused on him. He searched for Starscream on the ground, his spark dropping as he located the smoking red frame sprawled out on the sand. Acutely aware that he was alone, he pressed his blaster to the Autobot's head as dozens of enemy weapons were suddenly aimed in his direction.

"Do you really want to risk hitting one of your own?" Skywarp smirked, looking much more confident than he felt. He twisted the Autobot in his arms so that the other was directly in the line of fire, a pained groan alerting him that his enemy had come back online. "You see that, weakling? Your own faction is willing to fire on you, just for a chance of striking me."

"Skywarp, release Skydive or we will be forced to call in aerial support," the Autobot tactician, Prowl, ordered.

"What aerial support?" A real smirk touched Skywarp's faceplates then, thankful that his trine had been so thorough. "If you mean those four charred scrap piles..." he trailed off nastily.

"The net can't take much more!" the red twin called to the yellow one. "Just finish it, Sunny!"

With the attention on Skywarp, Thundercracker had managed to tear a small hole in the energon net, and was working on freeing his damaged wing. The yellow twin, who was holding some sort of control, grinned. It was not the sort of grin one normally witnessed on Autobot faceplates.

"Not so fast, Deception scum."

The net flared blinding white, forcing Skywarp to shield his optics, though he could still feel a strong electromagnetic pulse as it passed over his wings. The light faded as Thundercracker collapsed to the ground, optics dark.

Feeling a renewed sense of urgency, Skywarp engaged his warp drive.

"Let Thundercracker go, or I will take Skydive here back to base for a taste of Decepticon hospitality." The Nemesis was out of range, but the Autobots were unlikely to risk calling his bluff.

Strengthening his vice grip on the captive F-16, he watched the Autobot command below with an intensity he did not know himself to possess. Prowl subtlety turned toward their Prime as they engaged in a silent, heated debate.

His optics caught movement off to the side, a subtle shiver in the energon net as Thundercracker's wings quaked in carefully masked agony. The spasms lasted only a few nanokliks—the longest of Skywarp's existence—before his trinemate went still again.

"Hey TC, you there?" He called over their private comm.

With obvious effort, Thundercracker onlined his optics. Dim and bleary with pain, they panned the dark sky above before coming to rest on Skywarp.

"I'm that bad, huh?" Thundercraker's voice sounded strong, _normal_, through the commlink as he gave a short laugh.

"Primus, TC... I don't know what to do! Screamer is down, you are down..."

"You are doing fine," Thundercracker reassured. "I'm very proud of you."

Skywarp froze, his spark giving a peculiar throb as he registered Thundercracker's words.

"Conserve your energy, TC." Skywarp turned back to the Autobots as his trinemate lapsed into silence. "I'll get us out of this mess."

"What'll it be, Autobot slag?" Skywarp could feel his fuel pump, hammering under his cockpit, pouring every last ounce of energon he had to spare into his warp gate generator. Frag his maximum range computations, if anything happened to his trinemate he _would_ warp this flyer to the Nemesis and dismantle him personally, piece by agonizing piece—but that wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let anything happen to Thundercracker. He gripped the Autobot flyer like a lifeline, the smaller jet's rib stuts creaking under the strain.

"Prime, the wingnut is serious." Jazz, the head of Autobot special ops, winced as the captive Aerialbot let out a pitiful moan.

"Skywarp," the Autobot Prime addressed him by name, in a calm, placating voice. "Put Skydive down and we will negotiate the release of your trinemate."

"This isn't open for discussion, Prime," he spat. "Release Thundercracker now, or so help me Primus, I will break every strut in this pathetic weakling's frame." Skywarp bore down, Skydive's ribstruts finally giving way with a sickening crack. The weakling deserved it, crying like a sparkling over a few broken struts. A _true_ Seeker warrior knew how to handle pain with dignity; his optics flickered to Thundercracker. Pressed down against the sand, barely online— he still embodied that spirit.

A flash of silver caught his optics. The Autobot microscope had swiveled the large barrel of the captured Particle Disruption Ray to aim point-blank at his captive's chassis.

"Perceptor," Prowl shouted. "What are you doing? The chances of you missing Skydive are .0002%!"

"That is precisely the point." Perceptor insisted, his thick Iaconian accent reminding Skywarp of Shockwave; Primus, maybe all Iaconian-educated scientists were crazy. It would certainly explain Starscream. "I am _aiming_ for Skydive."

Skywarp felt the Aerialbot stiffen in his arms.

_"What?"_ Prowl choked. His optics flared bright azure before darkening as he collapsed to the ground in a shower of sparks. The suffocating smell of overheated processor chips lingered in the air.

"Perceptor, we can not risk such a close shot. Stand down." Prime ordered.

"I have done the calculations, sir. It will work." Perceptor insisted, his optics dimming slightly as he engaged in an internal conversation with his leader. "You must trust me."

"You _can't_ be serious." Skywarp chuckled, his laughter tainted with malice. "Even if you are really willing to sacrifice this piece of scrap, you can't possibly hope to hit me. I'll just warp away."

"I'd like to see you try," the microscope challenged. The weapon came to life with a whine, a singular point of brilliant white light becoming visible just below the muzzle.

Amazingly, not one of the Autobots moved to stop him; maybe they weren't such soft-sparks after all.

"Very well." He took one last look at Thundercracker, noting with relief that Starscream—now back online—was quietly edging towards the yellow twin, who was holding the release mechanism to the net. His trineleader was keeping his optics on the microscope, a thoughtful frown on his faceplates.

"You'll be out of this soon, TC," he soothed over their private comm. Not waiting for a response, he activated his warp drive.

"Just try and hit me!" he cried, throwing his captive right into the path of the beam. He felt the familiar stretch of his molecular structure, his programming quickly registering the location of each atom.

"Skywarp, you fool!" Starscream screeched unexpectedly. "No!"

_"'Warp?"_ Faint, across his commlink.

The last thing he saw was his trineleader's horrified face as the beam traveled straight _through_Skydive, impacting him in the cockpit, right above his warp drive. He had a split second to transmit his incomplete reassembly data before the world disappeared in a violet flash.

* * *

Author's Note (June 17, 2012): I just wanted to clarify that **this is NOT the end**... I have been experiencing an acute attack of RL. I thought I would have more time to write after my thesis was complete... oh how naïve I was! XD My job—a graduate research assistant—requires a huge amount of technical writing to be done each week. Not only is this time consuming, but I often find it difficult to switch gears back to creative writing when I do find the time to jot down a few hundred words. If anyone has any suggestions/writing exercises to help deal with this, please share :)

Anyway... As most of you probably have noticed, there is no character death warning on this story. I am not shy about killing off characters—I will admit—but I wouldn't kill off a canon character without at least a warning. So don't write off our dear Warper just yet ;)


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